


Supertinywords' Fictober 2018

by Onlymostydead



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Bat Family, Coming Out, Fluff, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentioned Temporary Canon Character Death, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Polyamory, Relationship Advice, The one sided and pairing birdflash are separate!, Trans Duke Thomas, Trans Male Character, Trans Stephanie Brown, Trans Tim Drake, Transphobia, canon minor character death, mentions of canon-typical violence, past drug abuse, self injury, trans Wally west
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 24,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: A collection of the oneshots I'm writing for Fictober this year! Tags will update, warnings will be on individual chapters <3





	1. "Can You Feel This?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick learns for the first time that Bruce, after being so thoroughly scarred, can't feel parts of his skin.

Dick, seemingly for the first time in his life, was speechless.

"What do you mean, you can't feel some of your scars? You've gotta be able to feel something!" He exclaimed, then resumed hopping around and poking at Bruce.

"Can you feel that?" He poked him in the side, where a particularly nasty stab-wound scar sat.

"Yes," Bruce grumbled, finally accepting that he would not be getting out of this anytime soon.

"What about that?" He jabbed him in the back, where, if he wasn't mistaken, he had been bitten by killer croc.

"Yes." 

"This?" 

"Yes."

"This?"

"...Did you touch me?" 

Dick giggled. "No! I was just seeing if you'd say 'yes' anyway.

Bruce nodded. "Smart."

He beamed at the compliment for all of two seconds before he was back at it. 

"Can you feel this?" He poked a spot on his arm.

"No."

"Wow! Really? What happened? What happened?" Dick hopped up and down quite literally.

Bruce couldn't suppress his smile at Dick's enthusiasm, though the memory was far from pleasant. "Knife slash- one of Two-Faces goons, if I remember correctly."

"You always remember correctly." Dick insisted.

Bruce ruffled his hair. "If you say so."

He nodded. "Can you feel here?"

He poked a spot on his neck that had a nasty burn from a crazy run in with Harley Quinn. 

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"What about right here? The spot on your shoulder with the really ugly... Spot." Dick poked that place multiple times.

"No, I can't feel that one. It's a bullet scar." Bruce explained.

"Wow! A bullet! Did it hurt a lot?" Dick's eyes were wide again, his body still.

Bruce nodded. "Yes- though that's just about the biggest understatement I've made."

Dick squinted. "Does it hurt worse than being tasered?"

"Yes, it's worse than being tased."

"Wow!" Dick started jumping again. "That's awful. Are you okay?"

Bruce smiled. "Yeah, I'm alright. Come on, you've got school."

He stopped, groaned, then seemed to decide against that plan of action and ran over to the cave's exit. "Beat you to breakfast."

Bruce chuckled, and followed.


	2. “People like you have no imagination.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian helps out Tim with Kon's birthday coming up

"But what do I even- it's his birthday, what do I even do for that?"

Tim had been talking like that for what felt like hours, pacing back and forth across the dining room. Damian, to his own credit, hadn't said anything yet, though his eyes followed his brother like daggers as he paced. What to do for Kent- Connor, he knew far too many Kent's, seemed simple in his eyes.

"Do I try to get him a gift? Would he rather I take him out to dinner?" Tim's hands messed with his hair, pushing it back from his face. "What if he's disappointed?"

Tim pressed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, seemingly wracking his brain for ideas. Honestly, in Damian's opinion, he just had no clue.

Clicking his tongue, Damian decided that he wouldn't just watch anymore. “People like you have no imagination, do they?"

Tim froze, turning in a glare over to look at him. "And you do? You don't know anything about dating."

He scoffed. "More than you, apparently."

Tim frowned, turned away, then seemed to lose his steam. Pushing his hair back once more in frustration, he pulled out a chair and sat down next to Damian in defeat.

"Bart's gonna end up outdoing me, I know it." Tim groaned, leaning forward onto the table.

"It's not about out-doing your other partner." Damian rolled his eyes; seriously, shouldn't Tim know this by now? "It is about Kon. What would he enjoy?"

Tim rubbed his face with his hands. "But what would he enjoy the most?"

Damian clicked his tongue again. "Use the KISS method. Grayson taught me about it."

"..." Tim raised a very skeptical eyebrow. "What?"

"Keep it simple, stupid. K-I-S-S. Stop overthinking it." He instructed, crossing his legs. "Just do something normal couples do."

"Why am I listening to your advice again?" Tim asked, cocking his head to the side.

Damian shrugged. "I don't know- just get him flowers or something. Roses, or whatever his favorite is. And his favorite candy. That is what normal couples do, is it not?"

Tim blinked slowly. "Keep it simple.. Maybe. Am I sure you aren't trying to sabotage my relationship?"

Damian shrugged again. "I could care less if you are with Kon or not, and you know this. I simply want you to quit your worrying. It's obnoxious."

Rolling his eyes, Tim smiled. "Thanks, Brat."

"You aren't welcome, Idiot."

***

Damian's phone chimed the next day, after he had already gone into his meditation. At first he was annoyed, then angry when he saw that it was Tim who had texted. He knew better, after all. In irritation, he checked the message.

(Drake, Timothy): Thanks for the help

After that was a picture of Kon and Tim together, Kon blushing as he held a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Stupid," Damian muttered, but there was a smile on his face as he went back to meditating.


	3. “How can I trust you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy calms Jason down from one of his rough patches.
> 
> (A lil Angsty- really hurt/comfort)

Roy was backing up quickly, until his back hit the apartment door. "Jason, it's not like that, I swear-"

"You think I'm crazy, don't you? Just like the rest of 'em?" His breath was coming hard, his hand on the knife tucked into his belt. "You wanna lock me up, just like Bats, don't you?"

Roy shook his head, trying not to think about the knife. Desperately, he tried to find his boyfriend in those shattered eyes. Something in that look did look broken, or crazy, but he knew better than to assume that was Jason. Slowly, he relaxed his shoulders, taking in a deep breath.

"Jason, you know I don't think you're crazy. You've just been going through one of your rough patches, that's all." He reasoned, trying to keep his voice steady. "Take your hand off the knife."

His hand didn't move away. "You wanna lock me up though." 

The widened of his eyes, the shaking in his voice broke Roy's heart. "No, I wanna talk this out with you, okay? Now take your hand off the knife."

"You promise?" Jason stiffened.

"I promise." Roy nodded. "No, I'm gonna sit down, okay?"

"K." 

Jason's hand wandered off the handle; he sat down on the floor a couple seconds after Roy did. That's when the tears came, streaming down his face.

"You don't trust me, do you?" Jason struggled the words out. "You just think I'm crazy."

"Jason's you're not crazy- come here." Roy got Jason to lie down, so that his head was in his lap. "But I can't trust you right now."

He stiffened at that, but Roy ran a calming hand through his hair very slowly. Again and again he repeated that motion until Jason relaxed a little.

“You're just in a bad patch; how can I trust you right now? It'd be bad for both of us." Roy reminded, hoping he remembered last time. "I'll be ready to trust you once things get a little better, but I'll be with you until we get there."

Jason nodded at that, burying his face deeper in Roy's sweatpants. "'M tired now."

"Alright." Roy smiled. "To bed now - okay? The floor isn't very comfortable. You wanna talk about this in the morning?"

Jason shrugged himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "Prolly not. Do I have to sleep on the couch?"

"Not if the knife stays under the pillow." Roy answered as he stood up.

Jason frowned. "Should probably sleep on the couch then. Night, Roy."

"Goodnight, Jason." Roy leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll see you in the morning?"

Jason nodded. "See you in the morning."


	4. "Will that be all?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred offers Jason some support as they make cookies together
> 
> (Canon character death, hurt/comfort)

"Hey Mr. Alfred, do you get lonely in this house?" Jason asked, swinging his feet.

Jason was such a tiny child that, when he sat on the counter, his feet dangled quite a ways from the ground. As it was, he dangled them back and forth as if he could not possibly keep still.  
Regardless, Alfred appreciated having him in the kitchen. He was good company, and even at eleven years of age a better cook than Bruce. A far better cook than Bruce.

"It does feel quite empty at times, Master Jason." Alfred replied evenly, stirring together the dry ingredients for the cookies they were making. "You are certainly not alone in feeling that."

Jason gave a little gap-toothed smile- he had lost one of his front teeth on patrol last week. They were going to have to see a dentist soon for that one- no, the appointment was already scheduled for tomorrow morning. 

"That's good to know. I always feel like I'm gonna bump into a ghost or somethin'." Jason kicked his foot a little more vigorously.

Alfred laughed. "Well, I can assure you that there are no ghosts in the manor. Would you please get out the eggs?"

"That you know of," Jason huffed as he hopped down to get the eggs out of the refrigerator. "But you know everything in this house. But maybe you can't see the ghosts? I don't know."

Alfred ruffled his hair as he grabbed the eggs, taking two from the carton then handing it back. "I will admit, Master Jason, I'm not likely to believe in them."

Jason nodded, putting back the eggs. "Yeah... I ain't ever seen one, but I kinda know they're there, ya know?"

His eyes got that sad, faraway look they only got when Bruce wasn't around. Alfred had come to realize that it meant he was missing his parents- more specifically his mother.

"I believe I understand what you mean, Master Jason." Alfred said with a deep nod.

Jason managed a little smile. "I can still feel her with me, though. That's the good part. Especially when I do things she liked."

Seeming to have regained a little more of his energy, he climbed back up onto the counter and swung his legs once more. "Like baking."

"Precisely." Alfred smiled, measuring out the sugar. "Precisely."

They finished up making the cookies fairly quickly, Jason coming down from his spot to help, eventually. Soon they were both washing their hands, though Jason had already licked all the cookie dough off his own. Alfred had pretended not to see him do it.

Jason was still smiling as they washed their hands, but his shoulders seemed to drop after he grabbed one of the hand towels.

"I miss her." Jason admitted, keeping his hands on the towel. "I miss baking with her a lot."

Alfred could practically hear the tears well up in his eyes, and he could see the way he was trying to hide that his hands were shaking.

"I don't know why it's all just hitting me now," he started to cry. "I don't know... Can I have a hug?"

"Certainly, Master Jason."

Before the words were out of his mouth Jason had his arms wrapped around him, crying into the fabric of his jacket. Alfred rubbed calming circles into his back, gently stroking his hair.

"There there, Master Jason. It's alright to grieve, even if it's been some time." He reassured, taking deep breaths in hope Jason would follow suit.

"I have homework I have to do." Jason blurted, his face still buried in Alfred's jacket.

Alfred smiled. "You should likely get that done tonight."

He nodded. "Can you make me some tea?"

"Certainly." He rubbed Jason's shoulders. “Will that be all?”

Jason was silent for a couple of moments, but made no move to remove himself from the hug.

"...one of the cookies, once they're done?"

"Absolutely."

Alfred could feel his smile, or he could just tell. "Thank you, Mr. Alfred."

"Anything, Master Jason."


	5. "Take what you need."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass finds Damian crying, and offers to spar him or hold him, whatever he needs.
> 
> (Hurt/comfort)

Damian was crying. Cass couldn't see the tears, sure, but it was obvious. His shoulders were stiff as he trained, and the balance in his ankles was all wrong. The neck especially was too tense, and he kept swallowing. Either he was crying or he had been poisoned with something that would cause slow asphyxiation without his knowledge. Cass was going to go with her first observation.

The question was, what to do about it. His fists, clenched tighter than normal, meant he was angry that he was crying. Understandable, since he was Damian. She could understand that part, and respected that he chose not to be emotionally vulnerable around most of the family. She herself chose not to cry in front of them unless she absolutely had to... Except for Steph.

Moving forward, Cass kept watching. His drills were sloppy, a sure sign that he was angry. Damian, unlike Jason, did not get sharper when he was mad. Like most people, he became blindsided and didn't pay enough attention to his form. His punches, especially, were thrown off by the tension in his shoulders.  
Cass was close enough now to hear his little sobs, bubbling out of his throat when he couldn't help it. Damian tried to hold it in, of course, but he couldn't keep it all back. Surprised by the feeling, Cass was overwhelmed with the urge to do something about it. Personally she would rather beat up whoever hurt him, but with Damian that wasn't usually possible.

She cleared her throat.

Damian froze, then lowered his arms and straightened his legs until he was standing in his usual stiff position in front of her. His shoulders were still drawn up, ankles tense. Sure enough, tear streaks still ran down his cheeks.

"Why are you here, Cain?" He spat, trying to puff out his chest.

Flinching at the last name, Cass's face soured. Still, she tried to remember the pity she felt when she heard him sobbing.

"Do you need to spar, or would you like comfort?" She offered awkwardly, watching his face grow in confusion.

But some of the tension went from his shoulders.

"What?" He cocked his head to the side, blinking.

"You're obviously upset- take what you need. Spar me, or not." Cass offered again.

Damian's mouth twisted into a thin line, and his feet seemed to find a weak imitation of a starting stance. Cass prepared herself to mirror the position, but didn't quite yet. He raised his arms, then-  
Damian's shoulders tensed again, an ugly sob boiling out of his throat. His whole body seemed to shake, and he stepped forward not in a lunge, but to hug her.

Unsure of what to do, Cass wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Sparring would have been much easier than this, but the way Damian was crying into her shoulder, the fact he felt comfortable enough to do that...  
Those actions got Cass thinking about how Bruce always referred to her: as his daughter. Never before has it really clicked that his other children were her siblings.

Damian was her little brother. She was his big sister.

That thought brought a smile to her face, and Cass found herself rubbing slid circles into Damian's back.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked softly, and felt the little shake of Damian's head.

"No, Cain." He managed. "This is enough."

She nodded, continuing to hold him gently.

"Thank you." He murmured, his sobs having subsided into a steady stream of tears.

Cass didn't answer, she only kept holding her little brother close, calming him down as well as she could.


	6. “I heard enough, this ends now.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick walks in right before Tim, Bart, and Connor attempt to make a sundae... By dropping the ingredients into Bart's mouth.
> 
> (No warnings apply!)

"...what are you doing?"

To be fair, Tim reasoned, Dick had walked in at a bad time. Bart was lying on a tarp on the floor, mouth open, a blindfold covering his eyes. A chair, not one of the nice dining room ones, was set near his head, with Connor kneeling on it. On the floor next to him was a variety of sundae making toppings- ice cream, chocolate syrup, sprinkles, cherries... Oh, and the banana. Wait- where was the banana? Scratch that, Connor had been holding the banana, and dropped it when Dick walked in. It had hit Bart straight in the eye, and both of them were currently losing their minds laughing.

"Come on Dick," Tim tried to play it cool. "You've never heard of the summer camp classic, 'making a sundae in someone's mouth'?"

Dick stared blankly. "While I hate to be 'that person,' that sounds very dangerous."

Tim scoffed. "It'll be fine; we've got a tarp down, I'm trained in the Heimlich maneuver-" 

"Any kind of fun that required knowing the Heimlich maneuver isn't a kind of fun I can condone in the manor." Dick shook his head.

Tim frowned. "That is so not what you were saying when you and Jason had your 'how much pasta can you swallow without chewing first' competition."

"...that's different?" He offered.

"How?"

"Because they aren't in the family- I'd feel responsible if we hurt Bart." Dick explained. "Plus, I don't know how to explain that to Wally."

"He'd probably laugh, like anyone with a sense of humor would." Tim argued. "Plus, nobody's going to get hurt! I know the Heimlich maneuver."

Somehow, that didn't seem to sway Dick. 

Shaking his head, Dick sighed. “I heard enough, this ends now.”

"...you're not my boss?" Tim tried. "Plus, we already got Alfred's permission."

"No you didn't, you little shit." Duck called him on his bluff. "Just don't say I didn't warn you, okay?"

"Yes, Dick."

"And do not, under any circumstances, let Damian join you."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell would I let Damian join us?"

"...fair point." Dick nodded. "And if Bruce finds out-"

"Just go- you had nothing to do with this, I get it, love you Dick, all that. Bye!" He shoved Dick out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

While they were talking, Connor had managed to miss Bart's mouth with three scoops of ice cream. He was about to try the fourth.

"Wait-" Tim scrambled to get his phone. "Guys, I'm not filming yet!"


	7. “No worries, we still have time.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets nervous before having to go to his first big gala with Bruce, and Bruce reassures him that it'll be fine.
> 
> (Implied/referenced child abuse, but it's very subtly implied.)

"Bruce?"

Jason appeared in the doorway to his study, hands clenched tight into fists by his sides. His remaining front tooth, the other one having been knocked out yet again, chewed nervously at his lower lip. His shoulder were drawn up close to his head, as if wincing.  
His demeanor, however, was not the most remarkably different thing about him. Alfred had seemingly managed to wrangle him into a suit for the party tonight, and Bruce could easily guess that the suit was his current reason for discomfort.

"Yes, Jason?" Setting down the marketing report he had been looking over, Bruce turned his full attention on Jason.

Jason stayed in the doorway, swaying awkwardly side to side. "It's just... How am I supposed to act?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I guess, ya know..." He bit his lip hard. "You have the whole Bruce Wayne act, and-"

"No one expects you to have a large presence, or even to talk to many people." Bruce assured, getting out of his chair.

Jason being dressed already reminded him that he still needed to do that. The less formal sport coat he had worn to the business meeting that morning wouldn't do for a black tie event. Which gala was it again? He couldn't remember.

"Yeah, but..." He sighed, dropping his shoulders and looking down at the floor. "I don't even know how to talk to all them fancy pricks an' all that shit- I mean, stuff." He quickly corrected himself, glancing up at Bruce in panic for a split second. "I don't even know what their gonna talk to me about."

His lower lip was quivering now, and as Bruce got closer he could see just how close to crying Jason really was. 

"It's alright." Bruce reassured him gently, pushing a lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead back in place. "They won't talk to you about much; they'll likely just ask me questions about you. If you're shy it'll seem natural to them."

Jason nodded. "So I could jus' keep my mouth shut?"

"If that's what it takes, absolutely." Bruce smiled a little bit, hoping it came across as calming. "It'll be fine, either way."

"I don't want them to think 'm cute just 'cause I'm your charity case though." Jason groaned, gaining a bit more of his normal confidence. "Rich people are the worst."

Bruce laughed. "They certainly can be."

"Yeah, yeah." He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "The second worst is having to wear a suit."

"They certainly aren't comfortable, though it shouldn't be too tight on your neck." 

"'S not." Jason shrugged. "Just irritating. Are we gonna be late?"

Bruce glanced at his watch. "No worries, we've still got time."

Jason nodded, stopped, then groaned again. "Do we have to go?"

"Unfortunately." Bruce sighed. "I need to get dressed so that we aren't late- I'll be down in five."

"K, okay." Jason still worried at his lip. "You sure it'll be okay?"

"Positive." Bruce gave a single nod, then started on the way up to the master bedroom. "Just don't drink anything."

Jason shuddered. "Don't plan on it."

"And don't hit anyone." He called over his shoulder.

"Even if they deserve it?" Bruce could hear how Jason was grinning.

"Even if they deserve it- now go wait downstairs." 

"You got it, Boss!" Jason called, and they both went their opposite ways.


	8. “I know you do.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart's feeling lonely since Connor's been gone on a mission off-world; he and Tim cuddle to make it a little better.
> 
> (Hurt comfort, I guess?)

Tim could tell that something wasn't right the moment Bart cuddled under his arm. It wasn't the fact that he was cuddling - Bart was about the cuddliest person on the planet - but the way he did it. His hands, surprisingly cold, immediately found and held Tim close. His shoulders were shaking.

But worst of all, he wasn't talking.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Tim tried to sound the perfect mixture of sincere and, well, like he wasn't that worried.

"Nothing," Bart lied, burying his face deeper in Tim's side.

Tim moved his hand up to gently play with Bart's hair. Instantly he seemed to relax at that.

"I'm serious." Tim whispered, running his fingers slowly through his soft curls. "Is something bothering you?"

He shrugged. "It's just been a rough day. I don't know."

"You wanna talk to me about it?" Tim offered, still gently carding his hand through Bart's hair.

He just shrugged again, turning his face so that his voice was muffled by Tim's - actually Connor's - tee shirt. "Wally got annoyed with me not being able to focus when we were dealing with Captain Cold this morning, then school was just how it is normally, and I started thinking about Connor, and..."

Tim shushed him gently. "Yeah, I miss Connor too. He'll be back in a week."

"Yeah, but he's already been gone for three!" Bart complained, hugging tighter to Tim's chest. "I just want all three of us to be back again. It seems like you're always leaving."

Those words were like a sharp pain driving into Tim's heart. It really did seem like they were always busy with other things, but he didn't want Bart to be upset by it. He never wanted Bart to be upset.  
Gently, as to not disturb Bart too badly, he rolled onto his side so they would be facing each other.

"Hey, he'll be home soon. Then we'll all be back again- for a while." Tim reassured him, trying to give him a little smile.

Bart chuckled. "And how long will that last?"

"As long as we can make it." Tim answered. "But for now, we just have to wait for him."

"Yeah, yeah..." Bart seemed to sink into the mattress.

"I love you." Tim whispered, the words catching in his throat.

Bart's eyes went wide for a moment, then he grinned. “I know you do.”

"Pfft-" Tim laughed, shaking his head. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yep!" Bart declared, still smiling. "You guy's idiot."

And when Tim leaned in to kiss him, neither of them felt quite as lonely.


	9. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy follows Jason to make sure he's alright.
> 
> (Minor hurt comfort)

Roy heard the door click as Jason snuck out of their little apartment, leaving behind the Red Hood helmet. Unsure of whether that was a good or a bad thing, he forced himself up and out of bed. Throwing on a pair of sweatpants and one of Jason's shirts as quickly as possible, he prepared to follow. He couldn't just let Jason leave the apartment these days - even if he was fine, it helped Roy's peace of mind to know where he was.  
Was that fucked up? Probably. Roy hated that he couldn't trust Jason to make good choices for himself when he was in rough patches like this, but he loved the guy too much to just let him leave. So, like any decent person, he tugged on his boots and left to stalk his boyfriend.

Quietly as possible, he followed Jason as he made his way down the street. He was smoking a cigarette, a habit he had mostly kicked before they moved to Gotham.  
Roy sighed. Everything seemed to have gotten worse when they moved back to Gotham, and it was no wonder why. Jason had such a good memory, even though it was scrambled a little by the pit. There probably wasn't a corner of this city that he hadn't seen. All of it reminded him of either being on the streets, or being Robin. And being Robin reminded him of Batman, and Batman reminded him of-

Well, let's just say worse times. Jason was walking quickly, glancing back behind him once in a while. Roy felt like a creep dodging his eyes, but he couldn't risk Jason seeing him and panicking. He didn't always listen to reason right away when he was like this.  
Soon enough they ended up on a bad side of town, not like there was any good side, but this has to be where it was the worst. All the buildings were run down, half of them with 'condemned' signs that looked like they had been there for decades. The other half looked like they should have been condemned decades ago, too. 

Jason seemed relatively calm as he rounded a corner, coming up on a condemned apartment building. Several windows were broken, the brick exterior chipped away in places and entirely broken off in others. Taking a moment to glance back behind him, Jason entered the building.  
Roy could guess where this was, knew that entering the building with him was a bad idea, but followed anyway. Sure enough, Jason led the way to a second floor apartment with a huge dent in the middle of the door. He told him about it, sometimes. The place that he lived as a kid until his mom died and he couldn't stand the little apartment that reeked of rotting flesh. So, he left for the streets.

The inside had been stripped of all furniture, probably by people trying to get a little extra money any way they could. The plasticky hard floor was cracked and peeling in places, the walls full of holes.

Jason stopped in the middle of the room. "I know you're following me, Roy." 

Called out, Roy had no choice but to fully step into the room. "You okay, man?"

Jason shrugged. "I guess."

“You know you shouldn’t have come here.” Roy came forward slowly, until he would be close enough to hug him.

"Yeah, I know." He sighed, shoulders sagging. "Just missed mom, you know?"

Roy nodded. "I know. You need more time here?"

Jason shook his head. "No, she's not here anyways. Let's go home."

It was a long way back to the apartment, but it was nicer when Roy wasn't trailing after Jason. They walked together, hand in hand, the whole way.


	10. “You think this troubles me?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason comforts Damian after they learn that Talia's dead.
> 
> (Angst, hurt/comfort)

"You wanna talk about it?" Jason offered, both because felt obligated, and he could get what Damian was going through.

Damian, for his part, scowled and tucked his knees up under his chin. Jason hadn't seen him do that since he was eleven- what was he now, fourteen? He was too young for all this crap, too young to have just learned that his mother was dead.

"Why would I want to talk about it?" Damian spat, his lower lip quivering.

Jason noted every little movement in his body. His feet were curling and uncurling, his arms hugged too tight around his legs, he rocked very gently back and forth, and he refused to meet Jason's eyes.

"I mean, that's heavy news for anyone." He shrugged, deciding to let the kid have what he took out of the conversation.

He knew that he should take some initiative, hug him or some shit, but something also told him that would push Damian away. He was like a stray animal with a broken leg: it is the right thing to get if and comfort it and help it heal, but it has to come to you first.

“You think this troubles me?” Damian sniffled, wiping at his eyes. "I have not really seen her in years, it does not-"

His voice broke.

"It doesn't- I can't-" He was rocking back and forth a little quicker now, and every time he breathed it was like a little gasp for air.

"It's alright." Jason said, but didn't touch him. 

He knew what would come if he did: all of the 'I'm fine's and the 'don't patronize me, Todd's. It just wasn't-

Damian felt forward, finally breaking down his own barriers to hug Jason.

-worth it.

Yeah, it was awkward getting Damian into a position where he could hug him back, and Jason was trying to think about how he needed a cigarette; but he knew the truth. If he really thought about where Damian was, what he was going through, he'd start crying too. To be separated from your mom for years, and then losing her like that?

Jason blinked back tears as he held Damian in his arms, trying to have enough reassurance for both of them.


	11. "But I will never forget!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally almost let's a secret slip to Roy, who just wants to know if his friend is okay.
> 
> (Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, very much implied)

"Ugh- I so hate my parents." Wally grumbled, zipping around HQ.

Roy had no idea what he was doing, or why he said it, but he laughed anyway. "So we really are just the group of teen superheroes now?"

Wally stopped, cocking his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"You now, just the whole 'I hate my parents' thing. Turns out, even superheroes aren't immune." Roy smirked when Wally rolled his eyes.

"I don't even- but I do! It's the truth!" Wally flopped down on the couch, tapping his fingers on his thigh. "I mean, it's not like there's anything wrong. I'm fine."

"Then forgive 'em." Roy shrugged. "Olly's not my dad, before I say this- but I can still forgive Olly even though he's a total dickwad. I'm sure it's not-"

"I know you're supposed to forgive and forget, but I will never forget!" Wally exclaimed, his fingers tapping on his thigh even faster. "Or forgive, for that matter. You just don't know..."

He stood up and began to pace, though to Roy it looked more like he was flitting back and forth from one side of the room to the other, little more than a yellow blur.

"I can't just forgive people! I have good reason to hate my parents, Roy. I'm not just being every other teenager in the world, I..." He stopped dead in his tracks, shoulder dropping down before his demeanor shifted entirely; a huge smile rested on his face now, a complete opposite to what it had been a moment ago. "I'm fine though- all good. What're you up to?"

Roy raised a questioning eyebrow. "Wally, are you actually okay?"

"Just peachy." He winked, or tried to. "Wanna go hang out? Mario Kart?"

Trying to get the truth out of Wally when he didn't want to tell it was like pulling teeth, so Roy agreed. It would come out eventually, he was sure. After all, Wally was shit at keeping secret.   
Except that he was trans, which he kept a secret for... Three years? And that he's gay, which only came out recently. Maybe he was better at keeping secrets than Roy thought.

"Dude - you're totally losing." Wally elbowed him. "What's the deal? Daydreaming?"

"Shut up." Roy scoffed, and thought nothing more of it.


	12. "Who could do this?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's new puppy, Hermes, destroys the living room. It's not Tim's problem, and he is thankful.
> 
> (No warnings apply!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan on doing all of the days, just got behind <3

"Hmm, I wonder who could do this?" Tim groaned, flopping down on the couch anyway. "Alfred's gonna blow a fuse."

No throw pillow appeared to have been spared by whatever had mauled the majority of the living room furniture. Teeth marks were all over the corners and edges of the couches and chairs, the cushions ripped and the pillows completely shredded. It wasn't hard to figure out who did it, at least. Damian's new puppy could be the only culprit; what was the things name? Hercules? Heracles? Herpes? It was something Greek sounding, like all of Damian's pets.

Tim kind of wondered about that, but chose not to ask. Maybe he was just going through his Greek mythology phase; Tim remembered his. It lasted most of the third and fourth grades, and consisted of him reading every piece of literature he could find on the topic, which lead to some weird knowledge for a nine-year-old to have. Zeus was a freak, and that was all he was going to say on the topic.

"Damian!" Tim yelled, knowing full well that he probably could not hear him. "Your dog tore up the living room!"

As predicted, no one responded. Wayne manor was huge, and the kid could be anywhere. In reality... Tim checked his watch. It was 4:40 in the afternoon; he was probably down in the cave, doing his 'after school training' as usual. He never broke his routine, if he could help it, and today was likely not an exception.  
Shrugging, he let himself sink deeper into the couch. Letting himself close his eyes, Tim went over his checklist. He slept five hours last night, so he was good on sleep. He ate a normal breakfast and lunch, as well as a snack as he finished his homework. Homework was done, and he got some work sorted through on the Johnson Case. He didn't have to be anywhere before the house near the docks at one am to stop the exchange from taking place. So, all in all, a nap wouldn't be bad.

A disturbance on the couch had Tim's eyes open in an instant, glancing over to his left. There, happy as could be, scratching his ear, was the dog himself. He was a little, floppy golden lab with paws too big for his tiny body... And teeth capable of chewing up the entirety of the living room. Tim didn't mind dogs, really, but having bad run ins with dogs out on patrol didn't help him very much. Right now, he was just glad the puppy wasn't his responsibility. 

"Hey there, Herpes." Tim held out his hand for him to sniff. "You really can tear stuff up, huh?"

The way Herpes licked his hand Tim took as a yes. The puppy, thankfully, didn't seem too excited - mostly just happy. Bounding over on floppy feet, Herpes came over and snuggled up by Tim's thigh. 

"As long as you don't pee on me, we're good." Tim told him, scratching behind his ears.

Now, how about that nap?

***

Tim startled awake at the sound of Damian's voice.

"Drake, have you seen-"

He stopped in the doorway of the living room, his body instantly going stuff. Tim almost laughed; it was the same thing Bruce did when he was surprised or uncomfortable. He was like a little mini Bruce with a worse attitude and more poorly behaved pets. Speaking of pets, Herpes was still curled up with his head on Tim's leg. How cute.

"Oh, are you looking for Herpes?" Tim asked, grinning as Daman turned bright red.

"Am I looking for what?!" Damian's eyes were wide, his nose crinkling as his face did that little scrunchy thing. "Drake, you disgust me."

Tim shrugged. "Herpes." He gestured to the dog.

Damian scowled. 

"His name is Hermes." He corrected with gritted teeth.

Tim shrugged again. "Well, he's right here- has been since 4:40."

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you with him?"

"Because he came and cuddled with me." Tim scratched Hermes behind the ears. "You can have him, if you want."

Damian sighed. "I should likely start cleaning this up; Pennyworth will have a fit."

"Yep." He agreed.

"Are you going to help me?" 

Tim pretended to think about it for a second. "No."

Damian frowned. "You are the worst, and I hate you."

"Hate you too." Tim smiled. 

They hadn't hated each other for real in a long time, certainly not since Damian died. It was just a formality at this point.

"You imbecile."

"Loser."

"Ninny."

"Bagel."

Damian blinked. "...wha is the significance behind 'bagel'?"

Tim winked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"...I hate you."

"Hate you too, lil D."


	13. "Try harder, next time."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Bruce train together, and Jason tries not to think about his mother.
> 
> (A lil angsty, canon character death)

If there was one thing Jason Todd prided himself on above anything else, it was that he always have everything he did 110%. In school, even though it was still hard getting caught up with all of the kids with their fancy educations and manners schooling. In drama, which he chose to do because his mom always said he was made to be an actor one day.

And, above anything else, when it came to being Robin.

"Come on, try the maneuver again, you need to learn how to do this better." Bruce instructed, reaching a hand down to help Jason up. "Focus more on getting around me than the attack afterward, we can cover that after you get this down."

Jason growled, angry at himself for not having it already. It was a simple maneuver, Dick could do it by the time he was ten. He was fourteen and he still couldn't get the correct balance, the right way to turn yourself to roll effortlessly off someone's back. Most of all, Jason thought, he didn't trust Bruce to still be in the same place when he was supposed to land on him.

"Alright, I'll try again." He nodded, brushing himself off.

Jason ran towards Bruce again, leaping at him to feign a kick to the face then abandoning the motion at the last minute. In theory, he would bring his legs back under him and do a somersault off of his shoulder. In practice, he didn't time the roll right and hit the back of his head right into Bruce's collarbone. He hit the ground with a thud, narrowly avoiding landing on his skull.

Bruce reached down a hand to him again. "Alright, that's enough for tonight."

"One more time." Jason insisted, pulling himself to his feet. "I'll try harder next time."

"You're trying your hardest." He stated, resting a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Your legs are shaking; you need rest."

Jason sighed, his shoulders drooping. "But I'll get it next time."

Bruce smiled. "Of course, now go get yourself to bed. You can try again in the morning."

"Pfft." Jason grinned. "Whatever you say, boss."

"And you will need rest." Bruce added. "Don't sneak back down here to practice on a dummy as soon as I'm asleep."

His eyes darted around the room. "I would never even dream-"

"Jason."

He dropped the act. "What?"

"Go to bed."

"Okay, okay." Jason nodded, heading back to the stairs. "You too, Boss."

He only saw the corner of Bruce's mouth twitch upwards before he was off to bed; or off to thinking about how to make that move work. He could do it, he knew that. All he had to do was try hard enough. If he could do that, he could do anything. 

Almost anything, he thought bitterly. His mother's face came to mind, even though he tried to shake her out of his head. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring her back.


	14. “Some people call this wisdom.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie and Damian hang out and laugh at things their family members have said.
> 
> (No warnings apply!)

It wasn't often that Stephanie found herself in the manor anymore, and certainly when she was she didn't hang out with Damian. Still, when you end up sitting on the couch together in boredom, you have to be resourceful.

"Well, as someone I once knew said, 'This shit's gone such old bananas you could make banana bread.'" She declared, thoroughly enjoying the confused look on Damian's face.

"What?" He finally managed.

"You know, 'you can either have me or the lampshade, not both.' That one was Cass, I think." She added, trying to keep from laughing.

"Brown, I do not understand; what are you talking about?" Damian cocked his head to the side, his eyes wide and brows pulled up in a question.

Stephanie grinned. "Just the 'words of wisdom' I've written down over the years. You know, important things people have said to me. That kind of jazz."

Damian still looked thoroughly confused, to the point where he actually scratched the side of his head. Who did that in real life? That only further played into her suspicion that Damian copied things people on TV did, but that wasn't the point. The point right now, was the note folder she had entitled 'words of wisdom.' In truth, it was dumb shit the family had said over the years. It was just fun to go back through and try to remember when they were said.

"Here-" Quickly, she locked her phone so that it wouldn't let him leave the note. "The famed compilation."

“...some people call this wisdom?" Damian asked, sounding no less confused than before. "This entry only says: 'the life force is in the mouth' Tim Drake. There is nothing wise about that."

Stephanie shrugged. "It's sarcastic, kiddo."

"Do not call me 'kiddo'." Damian scowled.

"Or what, kiddo?" Stephanie winked. "Ooh, scroll down farther. There's one..."

"'The fuck is without coffee' Bruce Wayne." He paused. "Father did not say that."

"You bet he did." She grinned.

"'Birds of a feather fuck together.' That is disgusting, of course Drake said it." Damian seemed to be enjoying himself now, a devilish grin settling on his lips. "'Isn't Sky High a James Bond Movie?' Grayson is such a fool sometimes."

"Oh yeah he is." Steph agreed, tucking her feet up onto the couch.

"'How does gravity work again?' Oh no, that was me." Immediately, he stiffened. "It does not count! That is when I was having the strange powers."

"Ehhhh... You still said it." Steph countered.

Damian scowled, but said nothing more of the matter. "'Jesus should go on America's Got Talent.' Stupid Drake."

Steph waited like that for a while, listening to Damian read the different quotes and his opinions on the circumstance. Some of them he refused to believe were said by the person in question, but overall it was entertaining.  
When it got seriously wild though, was when Damian started doing voices.

"Small adults aren't big." He copied in Jason's voice.

"I don't know how people keep their clothes on." He grumbled in Bruce's voice, though he blushed as he did it.

He groaned like Tim. "My toes need therapy."

"See that?" Jason's voice, and even a bit of his posture. "That's a disappointed Dick face."

By the end of it, both of them were caught in fits of laughing. The hilarity of some of the things they had said, combined with the voices? It was priceless.   
Stephanie had never considered Damian as anything more than a pest in the past, but now? Maybe he could be a little brother. He still drive her crazy, but they still felt a little closer.

Besides, she wondered what kind of crazy stuff he would accidentally say; little slip ups in words can be immortalized forever in Stephanie Brown's 'Words of Wisdom.'


	15. "I thought you had forgotten.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim thinks a little bit about his birthday, and is surprised by his family.
> 
> (Brief light angst, trans Tim Drake, batfamily)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm really behind.

Tim's birthday was a weird thing. Being Robin at first he hadn't shared it, then when he did it was awkward because it was split between his parents house and the batcave. After his mom died nothing was the same, but they still kept on; she wasn't around much anyway. It was when his dad died that the topic of birthdays got really dodgy. 

His sixteenth didn't feel quite real. Of course, the big Wayne party was spectacular, but it wasn't a birthday celebration as much as it was an exercise in his patience. It wasn't right without his dad there, surrounded by strangers who still had trouble calling him Tim.

His seventeenth birthday wasn't even celebrated, and honestly he didn't care that much. Bruce was dead, his boyfriends were either dead or missing or something to that effect at the time, and Dick was too busy dealing with Damian to remember things like that. He felt really bad when he realized he had forgotten, but Tim didn't really mind. It wouldn't have felt like a birthday without his family there, and too many of them were dead and gone.

So really, in all honesty, Tim expected his eighteenth birthday to be similar. His boyfriends would probably do something - they were both hopeless romantics - but that was probably it. Things were still complicated with Damian, and with Duke having recently joined the family, and Jason had just started hanging out with them again... It was all just going to be the same kind of thing it was last year.

A loud knock on his bedroom door startled Tim out of bed. "Drake, get up." 

Tim groaned, rolling over and covering his head with his pillow. It was his birthday for fucks sake, even if the demon brat didn't know that he still felt entitled to five more minutes.

"Tell whoever sent you I'll be down in ten." He grumbled, resettling into the mattress.

Damian clinked his tongue. "I doubt Pennyworth will be happy to hear that."

Unable to argue with that, Tim sat up and rubbed his face. Damian, unfortunately, was right. Alfred would not be pleased.

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up." He mumbled, reaching over for his glasses; if the needed him now, it was quicker than contacts. "Just let me throw a binder on and I'll be down."

Frowning, Damian shook his head. "Fully clothe yourself, Drake. In something other than Kent's shirt? It is far too large on you."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Are pants necessary?"

"Yes. I would say so." He answered with no small amount of distain in his voice. "Now hurry up."

"Why, what's the rush?" Tim asked as he turned away, hopping out of bed and stripping off his shirt. 

He picked up his binder off the floor, smell-checked it, then put it on. Squinting the tired out of his eyes, he searched for where he had thrown his joggers.

Damian sputtered for a moment. "Just hurry! You've already slept in."

The slam of the door followed soon after, and Tim rolled his eyes again. Damian sure did love running around like he owned the place. Quickly, he finished getting dressed and ran a hand through his hair. It felt like he had washed it yesterday, so it was probably fine. After giving his teeth a brush, he was on his way downstairs.   
And, for the record, he hadn't slept in at all. Damian only said that because he was a crazy piece of shit who woke up at five thirty in the morning.

Immediately upon rounding the corner into the dining room, confetti was blasted into his face.

"Happy Birthday!"

Tim couldn't keep himself from flinching as a first response, but a smile quickly replaced his concern. It looked like everyone was there: Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Jason, Stephanie, Cass, Duke and Damian all stood around Alfred, who held the cake. 

"I thought you'd forgotten.” Was the first thing out of Tim's mouth, however involuntary.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Why would you think that, Master Timothy?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah, you told me just last week." Duke added.

Steph laughed. "You kidding twerp? Miss my chance to take embarrassing birthday photos?"

"I don't forget things like that." Cass put simply.

"Forget it? I don't thinks so." Barbara agreed.

Jason chuckled. "Can't forget replacement, even if he's been replaced now."

"Sorry!" Dick squeaked.

Damian only clicked his tongue.

"Well, I... I love you guys." Tim managed to get out, only to end up being wrapped up in a group hug.

He didn't know who started it, but somehow it didn't feel awkward. It jut felt like he had this part of his family here, together. They had put aside their differences for this, and he wasn't about to take it lightly.

"I really am sorry about last year." Dick repeated.

Tim laughed. "It's okay; we're all good now."


	16. “This is gonna be so much fun!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim takes Duke up onto the Wayne Tech buliding to watch the sunset for some brotherly bonding.
> 
> (Trans Tim, Trans Duke, coming out, fluff, mentioned TimKonBart)

"Wait- have you never been on the rooftop of the Wayne Tech building?" Tim's jaw dropped, staring at Duke in disbelief.

He shrugged, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "Maybe? I mean, for patrol, probably."

"So not the same." Tim shook his head. "Come on, this is gonna be so much fun!” 

Duke forced an awkward smile, still looking a bit wary. Working solo for the most part had made relationships with the other members of the family strange, considering the fact that they didn't see each other that often. When they did bump into each other, of course, it tended to be in the middle of the night when they were both at their worst, or early in the morning getting coffee. Other than that, all they knew about each other tended to be stories from other people.  
Tim didn't know how much Duke had heard, but he could understand being cautious.

"Suits, or no suits?" Duke asked, seemingly deciding to just give in.

Tim glanced over at the window. "No suits, but dress warm. It gets pretty windy up there sometimes."

He nodded. "Got it. Back door in ten?"

"Which back door?" 

"The one with the fake Halloween gargoyle Steph put up." Duke clarified.

"Got it." Tim did finger guns. "Gargoyle in ten."

Duke did some awkward finger guns back, before they went their separate ways.

***

"It's just the same thing we're always doing if you look at the city, but..." Tim sat down on the edge of the building, facing east towards the harbor. "The docks almost look pretty from up here."

Duke whistled, sitting down next to him. "You're right, this is nice."

A couple beats of silence went by, Tim staring out at the ocean. The Gotham sunset was something that existed nowhere else; sure it was because of the smog, but the eerie purple and orange glow was still beautiful. The hazy colors fading into each other was one of Tim's favorite things, despite the city itself.

"Wait, I don't think it is really, by I have to check; this isn't a date, right?" Duke blurted out.

Tim laughed. "No way. You're like my brother."

Duke gave a sigh of relief. "I was worried there for a sec. Steph warned me about you."

"What's she say?" Tim grinned. "I'm serious though, I kinda want to know."

He shrugged. "She might have said that you collect boyfriends?"

"Oh, that's funny." Tim shook his head, still smiling. "I mean, I was dating Connor and Bart as well as a person from school to keep up appearances, once."

Duke raised his eyebrows. "That's a lot of guys."

"Yeah, yeah." Tim kicked his feet over the edge. "Technically, I'm pan, but relationships with guys seem to just... Kinda happen? I don't know, man."

"I get that." Duke sighed. "I'm bi, or pan, I really haven't put that much thought into it. I think I'll just stick with bi though."

Tim nodded. "That's chill. And like, things like labels change all the time."

"Oh yeah they do." Duke agreed with a little whistle. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through a checklist."

Laughing, Tim looked back out over the harbor. "Believe it or not, I used to think I was a lesbian."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you're-"

"Trans? Yeah." He shrugged again, feeling nervous despite himself. "I know, it's kinda-"

"Me too!" Duke put a hand on Tim's shoulder, breaking out into a huge smile. "I thought I was the only one around here!"

Tim stared in disbelief for a moment, then laughed. "Wait, seriously? I mean, Steph wears her trans pride flag shirt all the damn time!"

"She's trans too!" If Duke smiled any bigger, Tim thought his face would break. "I thought she was just being an ally."

Grinning, Tim shook his head. "This is going to be a group chat now, isn't it? Knowing Steph."

"What is?"

"Probably named something like 'trans squad,' that would be her style." Tim added.

Duke looked out at the horizon, still smiling at the hazy sunset. "You guys are the best siblings I could hope for, you know that?"

Tim snorted. "Don't let Dick hear you say that."

"No, like... You guys in general. All of you." He clarified. "I always kinda worried that one of you would find out, and that you'd think less of me fighting crime, or you'd think I couldn't work on my own."

"I understand the feeling." Tim leaned his head against his shoulder. "But I don't think anyone's gonna be like that, and if they are-"

"I can punch them myself, Tim." Duke interrupted.

Tim snorted. "Glad you knew where that was going. The sun's getting pretty low, are you still warm enough?"

"Yep."

"Well, then, let's shut up and enjoy the view." Tim yawned. "I don't get up here often enough."

"...Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime."


	17. "I'll tell you, but you're not gonna like it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy doesn't answer any of Jason's calls, leaving him a bit panicked when he gets back to their apartment.
> 
> (Angst, past drug use, addiction, alcoholism, canon character death [but not Lian, she's okay], hurt/comfort)

"Roy? Roy are you home?"

Jason had rushed back from the docks as quickly as he could after finishing up the business with Crock, having been worried about his boyfriend the whole time. First they were supposed to meet up for lunch, which he never showed up to. Then he called him to see where he was, and got no answer. Then he called Donna, who was watching Lian for the weekend, but she hadn't heard from him. Of fucking course that was the day Killer Crock decided to start shit in his sector of town, so he had to go deal with that as quickly as possible, then rush home to see if Roy was still breathing.

A soft whine from the bedroom answered Jason, and he rushed to the sound, throwing off his mask. It hit the hard floor with a hollow clunk, but Jason didn't hear it over his own heart pounding.  
Roy was lying in bed, or rather, half on and half off. His body was draped with his head down, arm coming downwards at an odd angle, his hand lying limp. His arm stub was flopped over the edge of the bed too.

Jason had seen too many bodies like that, long red hair lying limp, hiding a face. Roy's hair was shorter than his mother's had been, he only had one arm, and she had looked deadly pale. Roy, at least, had a little bit of color. Still, the image of her dead body flashed in his mind. Flopped over the edge of the bed. Hands limp on the floor, one still holding the now empty syringe, the other empty. Jason had to fight to stay in the moment, to not curl up in a ball and cry like he had so long ago.

"Roy? Roy?" Rushing forward, Jason took his pulse at that limp wrist.

The needle scars on the inside of his arm were old, little more than scars now. His mother's had been fresh, new, but they were still the same in his eyes.  
But Roy had a pulse, steady, if a bit slow. His heart rate always ran slow, and it scared Jason every time.

"Fuck, Roy. You can't scare me like that." Jason sighed, too relieved to be very angry. "Hey, you awake?"

Roy groaned.

"I'm gonna move you, ok?" He warned him before grabbing his shoulders, lifting him and lowering him down onto the bed. "You good?"

Groaning again, Roy lifted the stub of his missing arm. As if realizing that did nothing, he reached up with his other arm and rubbed his face. 

"Just peachy." He slurred, eyes half open and blinking.

Jason sighed. "Roy Harper, are you high?" 

Roy's eyes went wide. "No, no I wouldn't."

He knew he wouldn't, he didn't even know why he asked that question. He hadn't done heroin since he though Lian was dead, almost two years ago now.

"Alright, I trust you." He patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Serious, I'm not high." Roy slurred out again, grabbing Jason's wrist with a clumsy hand. "Really."

Jason nodded, gently trying to remove his grip. "I know Roy, I know."

Roy squeezed his wrist tight, eyes wide and frantic as he stared up at Jason. "Is my baby girl safe?"

He nodded again. "She's at Donna's for the weekend, remember?"

At that news, Roy relaxed back into the bed. "Alright. I'm okay then."

"Roy," Jason rubbed his shoulder gently. "How many drinks did you have?" 

“I’ll tell you... but you’re not gonna like it.” Roy mumbled, leaning into Jason's touch.

"Alright, alright." Jason shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the floor. "Let me take my pants off and I'll cuddle with you."

Roy let go of his wrist, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" Jason asked, tugging off his boots.

"I think I was just lonely." Roy repeated. "I missed her, and you, and..." He shrugged, rolling over and curling in on himself. "I wasn't gonna get high again. Not again."

Jason nodded. "I know, babe."

Roy giggled. "'D you just call me babe?"

He shook his head. "You shut up, asshole."

"There's Jason!" Roy declared. "He's back."

"Alright, alright." Jason finished stepping out of his pants and crawled into bed.

He spooned Roy, with an arm wrapped around him and their bodies pressed close together.

"Not lonely anymore, Roy muttered, and was immediately fast asleep.

He would deal with his boyfriend's alcoholic tendencies later, for now, they could both use some sleep.


	18. “You should have seen it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie and Tim recount how they met and came out to each other to Duke.
> 
> (Past StephTim, coming out, trans Stephanie Brown, trans Tim Drake, Trans Duke Thomas.)

"So, we knew each other as Spoiler and Robin, right? And I kinda hated him as Robin back then." Stephanie began, crunching on her popcorn in between sentences. "But we also went to the same school."

"Ooh, that's a recipe for disaster." Duke commented, tossing a kernel into his own mouth. "And?"

"So, neither of us had come out to the general public yet. I had long hair with the excuse of the 'man bun.'" She shuddered. "And while Tim was out as being pan, the trans thing was still under wraps for him, too."

"Oof."

"'Oof' is right." Tim agreed, mouth positively full of popcorn. "That was freshman year, wasn't it?"

"Yup." Steph popped the 'p.' "And we had a couple of classes together, actually. Not a whole lot, but we knew each other decently."

"Did one of you figure out who the other one was?" Duke leaned forward in his seat on the couch.

Stephanie shook her head. "You'll learn soon. So I thought Tim was really cute, and he still thinks I'm really cute-"

"So unfair!" Tim interrupted. "You're gorgeous."

Steph winked. "Thanks, I know. Anyway, he asked me out which was a huge thing, the 'girl' asked the 'guy' out - big whoop - but we started dating. It actually lasted for a while."

Tim nodded. "Really did."

"Well?" Duke shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, but chewed and swallowed before he spoke again. "What happened?"

"I came out first, then she came out after I came out." Tim answered bluntly, crunching a piece of popcorn. Loudly.

“You should have seen it-" Steph waved her hand in the air. "There we are, two awkward, pimply freshman-"

"You were the pimply one, I still looked ten." Tim grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "One pimply freshman and one with perfect baby skin, sitting together on Tim's bed. We're both sweating a ridiculous amount because we're so nervous-"

"That's true though." Tim confirmed with a thumbs up.

"Thanks, Tim. Stealing the show a little?" Steph asked.

"Always." He grinned.

They really were like siblings, Duke decided. Exactly like siblings, really. The way they fought especially; it was like they could bicker and nitpick for all eternity. Still, it was funny.

"So I asked him something that I don't remember, I think I had asked him how many other girls he'd been with, 'cause we were talking about sex and he said he wasn't very familiar with penis. Then he just blurts out, in the softest way possible, "I'm a boy."" 

Stephanie mimicked Tim when she quoted him, but littler and squeakier. Duke supposed that was what he had sounded like as a freshman.

"I never sounded like that." Tim crossed his arms. "And you left out your half, as always."

"Figured I'd let you do that." She shrugged.

Tim smirked. "So, I kinda might've panicked and said she could break up with me, because she's straight and all, but she broke into this freaky grin. It scared the shit out of me; and she's like, "I'm not straight." So I sighed, like, "Are we still together then?" And she's like, nope."

He shook his head. Stephanie was chuckling as she ate her popcorn.

"I'm a lesbian!" Tim imitated Stephanie, in both voice and pose, doing double finger guns. "So I clarified that she was a girl, and we broke up, but we got way closer after that."

Steph nodded. "Way closer. And we got closer as Robin and Spoiler, too."

"Yeah..." Tim blushed.

"Wait a second..." Duke blinked. "How did you figure out-"

"I was making out with him just to be sure that I really wasn't into dudes - which, I'm not - and we had made out as Stephanie and Tim before too, just to practice. We both recognized each other the moment our lips touched." Steph explained.

"And?"

"And we were both really weirded out." She laughed. "Like, what are the odds? It was a real bonding moment. We got ice cream and stuff."

"We really did." Tim nodded.

"Somebody's still in love with me." Steph winked. 

"Am not." Tim rolled his eyes.

"Okay, you say that." She laughed, throwing back more popcorn.

"You two are so much drama, aren't you?" Duke shook his head. "Where do you get the energy?"

They both shrugged, then looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. 

"Should we play Twister?" Steph asked.

"Hell yeah."

Duke shook his head as the two of them ran off. Maybe, just maybe if he got comfortable around them he'd join in on their energy, but for now? It was safer to stay a bit detached.  
It was nice, though, knowing that he wasn't the only trans one in the family. Somehow, it made him feel closer to all of them.

Smiling, he finished off the rest of his popcorn, then started on Tim's.


	19. “Oh please, like this is the worst I have done.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian helps Tim stitch something up.
> 
> (Self harm, nothing graphic, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms)

Drake grunted as he stitched up his wound: a deep slashing cut on his hip. His grimace and clenched teeth showed Damian he was in a lot of pain; either he had neglected to take pain medication, or it hadn't kicked in yet. Either way, that was not the strangest part of the scene. That was easily the needle.  
It didn't take long knowing Drake to realize he was petrified of needles and could barely get his blood drawn, let alone stitch himself up. So where was Pennyworth? No one else was in sight; they were alone in the cave. From the looks of it, he didn't even realize Damian was there.

He clicked his tongue. "Drake, would you rather I get that for you? Your weak constitution and tendency toward fainting is showing itself."

Tim scoffed. "I'm fine, Damian. Piss off."

Damian raised his eyebrow. "What's gotten you so angry?"

Tim glared, eyes narrowing. "Maybe the slash wound in my thigh."

"Still, you are usually more tolerable." He countered. "Have you taken anything for the pain?"

"I don't need your help, Damian." Tim grunted, pulling a stick through with a shaky hand.

Damian clicked his tongue again. "It would be irresponsible to let you do it on your own, your stitches are getting sloppy."

"I need the practice." Tim argued. "I don't sew people up often enough."

"While I agree with that," he stepped forward, until he was beside the chair Tim was sitting on. "I also do not believe those stitches will hold well enough."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Then I'll sew it up again." 

"Hardly the best choice." Damian squatted down, on level with the cut. "How did you get this?"

"Some thug." He answered quickly, scooting away.

"Some thug, as you say, made a very even cut." Damian observed. "Too even to be a typical slash. In fact, I would argue that this was done slowly."

"Yeah, they had me tied up and 'some thug' cut my hip to make me squirm." Tim explained, pulling another stitch through. "Now will you stop interrogating me?"

Something wasn't right here. Damian could tell that much just by Drake's body language; it was too stiff and tense even for stitching up a wound with no anesthetic, and he didn't look too petrified by the needle.

"Their knife was quite sharp." He commented. "The slash is very clean, no jagged edges, nothing torn internal, all cut smoothly."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I noticed. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Hand me the needle." He demanded.

"What?" Tim scooted back again. "No way, I don't trust you."

"Yes, you do." Damian held out his hand. "Now give me the needle." 

Tim, begrudgingly, handed over the needle. Damian took it gingerly, adjusted his grip, then began stitching where Tim left off.

"Don't know why you care." He grumbled, but his voice has softened considerably.

Damian frowned. While he didn't care for Tim particularly, they hadn't been actively antagonizing each other for a while now. He had to admit, despite himself, that he had been tolerating Tim quite well recently. He had even come to care for him a bit.   
This cut, the dodging of his questions, the lack of anesthetic... It couldn't be more obvious that Tim had been the one to cut himself. Damian couldn't say he understood, but he could perhaps relate, he thought as he pulled another stitch tight. He had often been punished that way by the league of shadows. Physically. It hurt, but the scar that remained was far more painful. Perhaps Tim felt as if he had failed, and that he needed to be punished.

He himself had felt the same before, even if he never carried it out in this fashion.

As it appeared, this wasn't the first time Tim has done this. Other scars in the same pattern - clean, even, and deep - covered the area of hip visible to Damian. If he had to bet, he would say the other hip looked the same way, and likely farther down his thigh as well. 

"Drake... Are you alright?" Damian asked tentatively.

Tim scoffed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Drake," He sighed. "Do not pretend I don't know where you got this cut really."

Tension. Immediately Tim went taut like a bowstring, and Damian was worried that he would jump right out of the chair. Fortunately, he didn't. Sensing the impossibility of escaping the situation, Tim relaxed as much as he could.

"Whatever, no one will believe you." Tim stated, looking down at Damian out of the corner of his eye.

Damian met his gaze, and frowned when Tim looked away. "I did not plan on telling anyone, but you do know this is serious, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah." He used that same dismissive tone as before, brushing Damian off.

Damian wasn't sure why that hurt him so much. "I'm not joking, Timothy. This is bad, it's-"

“Oh please, like this is the worst I've done.” Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes again.

"Promise you will desist." Damian demanded, his voice tight.

Tim turned his head away. "Just promise you won't tell anyone."

Damian scowled. "That was not a promise."

"Fine, fine!" He still didn't look at him. "I'll stop."

Clicking his tongue, Damian finished up the stitches. "I will not tell anyone; I give you my word,"

"Alright."

He stood up, brushing off his pants. "Take care of yourself, Timothy."

Tim stayed silent, but he nodded. Fixing a bandage over the wound quickly, he stood up and adjusted his pants so they covered the bandage. Without another word he stalked out of the cave, limping ever so slightly.

Damian couldn't help but be worried, but he wanted to trust Tim. Somehow, he knew he couldn't.  
Sighing, he left the cave as well.


	20. “I hope you have a speech prepared.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Bruce prepare themselves for a big party, and Dick has some troubles with his tie.
> 
> (No warnings apply, other than a brief mention of alcohol and someone groping Dick.)

"Are you ready, Bruce?" Dick asked over his shoulder, trying to fix his tie in the parlor mirror.

Alfred had tied it on him initially, but had tried to teach him how to do it. Unfortunately, Dick's mind had been somewhere else while he was explaining. When he undid his tie and told him to redo it himself, Dick was completely lost. He hoped that, by some miracle, he could get it straightened out enough for Bruce not to notice.

"As ready as you can be for these things." Bruce grumbled. "Not quite prepared."

"Physically or emotionally?" Dick asked, still looking in the mirror and not at Bruce.

Bruce stepped closer, looking skeptically at Dick's tie. "Emotionally."

Dick hummed in agreement, hoping he would take those scrutinizing eyes off of his tie. Bruce shook his head, then began to untie it. Dick sighed in defeat.

"I mean, happy birthday?" Dick offered, hoping that would please him a little more than the unruly tie. "That is what the party is for, so I hope you have a speech prepared.”

Bruce grunted, finishing with the tie. "That makes it all the more exhausting."

Dick nodded. He could understand that... He guessed. While normally he loved to be the center of attention, Wayne parties were the one place he would rather just be left alone. Over the past years he had almost gotten used to how intrusive their questions were, but they always managed to get worse each time. It was like the elite Gothamites had one conglomerate group chat where they brainstormed and competed to find the most offensive things to say to someone.

Dick scoffed. "They're all just the worst, really."

Bruce sighed. "While I do agree they're annoying, invasive, and generally a nuisance, we have to try to be polite."

"Yes, Bruce." Dick stood up a little straighter.

"No matter how bad all of them get." He added.

"Yup."

Bruce groaned. "Even if Eva Langorine asks if you're graying prematurely for the eighteenth time."

Dick snickered. "Hey, at least I don't have to deal with that."

"Oh? Of course not." A slow smile crept onto Bruce's face. "But Charlotte Pfiefer will still pinch your cheeks."

"Even though I'm fourteen now?" Dick cringed.

"She did it until I was sixteen, Dick." Bruce nodded. "She doesn't mean any harm by it. She's just..."

"So rich she feels entitled to touching me when it makes me uncomfortable?" Dick guessed, scoffing.

"...something like that." Bruce agreed.

"Ughhh." Dick flopped backwards onto the small parlor sofa. "Do we have to be invited to your birthday party? Can't we just watch a movie or something while they fling their money at charities of your choice?"

Bruce chuckled, sitting down on the sofa next to him. "We haven't been at one of these parties in a while, they'll be expecting us."

Dick nodded. "Yes, Bruce."

"Besides," He stood up slowly, a hand on the hip that he had jolted pretty hard on last night's patrol. "There'll be cake involved."

"You know, I'm not so young that I can be bribed with cake." Dick said, remaining seated.

"I'm young enough that I can talk myself into thinking these parties aren't so bad because there's cake." Bruce countered. "A good devil's food covers a multitude of sins."

Dick nodded slowly. "Alright, that's fair. I know I have to go, but can I leave when people start getting too drunk? A lady groped my butt last time."

Bruce raised an alarmed eyebrow. "Yes, without question. If you feel like you need to leave, even just for a bit, please do."

Dick nodded, standing up. "Do we have to go in now?"

Bruce checked his watch. "No, we still have a few minutes until the guests really start arriving. We have time."

"Okay." He sighed, letting his shoulders drop. "I have a few minutes where I can slouch left."

"You know it's not good for your back." Bruce reminded.

"I don't have to worry about that, because I'm not old like you." Dick teased. "I mean, you just got older today. Technically we get older every day, but... Numerically."

Bruce chuckled. "Oh yes. I'm so old; already twenty seven."

"Yeah." Dick elbowed him. "Pushing thirty!"

Bruce laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let me fix your tie, it's crooked."

Dick stopped so that he could adjust the tie, but only for that long. "Are you graying prematurely?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Come on, there'll be enough guests already that we should make some conversation."

Dick nodded. "You do have your speech prepared, right?"

Producing an index card from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, Bruce waved it in the air. "I've got it covered. Let's go."


	21. "Impressive, truly."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke is trying to get a maneuver right, and Damian is a great help (not).
> 
> (Trans Duke Thomas, no warning apply)

Damian clicked his tongue. "That, Thomas, was a colossal fail." 

Duke groaned where he lay on the training mats, all of the wind knocked out of him. One minute he had been up on his grapple, hooked securely onto the scaffolding, the next? Splat.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." With a grunt he pulled himself to his feet.

He had to get this maneuver right, it was important. Being able to have full control of your body and momentum in the air was the key to making safe entrances and exits using the grapples. Sure, he already knew the basics, but what if things got more complicated? If someone could get hurt or, worst case scenario, killed because he couldn't do something right he'd never forgive himself.  
He just had to make sure that would never happen.

"Be more aware of your hips, you move them strangely." Damian pointed out. "And your shoulders are too tight."

It was weird how close his advice was to what Bruce had said to him countless times; it was like they were connected. Damian really did seem like a smaller, higher pitched, less white Bruce.   
Of course, the reasons he moved like that were something Bruce knew and not Damian. He had to know that he was trans for safety reasons, as well as costume design. Which was weird, considering the one thing he was trying to avoid was attention on his chest, so of course it got a giant, reflective bat symbol on it. He didn't mind, though. The costume overall was good. The biggest problem, however, was his movement, as Damian had so graciously pointed out.

"Okay, I'll try it again." Duke nodded, grabbing his grapple gun, getting the grapple part back in, and setting himself up in position.

"Remember; core tight, shoulders back, hips... Not doing whatever you just did." Damian instructed from his place on the sidelines.

Taking a deep breath, Duke prepared himself. He and Tim had practiced this together, and he had gotten it then. Right now, he just had to do that again. Walking himself through the steps mentally, Duke fired the grapple gun. Swinging forward, he put his other hand on the rope itself, rather than the gun. Then, the crucial moment, releasing the rope with both hands and grabbing a higher point, effectively bringing the momentum back into check. After that, he should have spun around to face the direction he planned to, then safely dropped down.  
The problem was with the release. Duke didn't get his hands up fast enough, only securing one onto the base of the grapple gun before sliding off, landing on the floor a little softer this time, but still with the sting of failure in his limbs.

“Impressive, truly.” Damian clapped. "I haven't seen anyone fail at that so badly since Drake was training."

Duke bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything. Weird and mean as he was, Damian was still just a kid. He had to reign it in when it came to kids.

"Thank you, Damian, for your input." Duke said through gritted teeth. "Any more words of wisdom?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "You really are improving. All you have to do is be a bit faster. Other than that, you'd form was fine. You were anticipating your next move a little bit too much, though. I believe the start of your rotation is what threw off the release."

As annoying as the kid was, Duke knew he was right. He nodded, and got up to try again.

And again.

And again. Each time, the failure burned more in his arms. His back still felt weird and tingly from falling spread eagle the first time.

Damian stopped talking after that second attempt, as if he had decided to just watch him try and fail to get it. Or, maybe, he just had nothing more to say. It was probably just the same issues he brought up the first couple of times.

So Duke tried again and again and again, each time getting a little more frustrated. His ankle hurt from where he had landed on it wrong the fifth attempt, and his knee from the sixth. A headache was beginning to form in his temples from his inner monologue telling him he'd never get this right.

Biting his tongue, Duke got up again. He resolved himself to do this as slowly as possible, leaving every move to the very last moment. He grappled, only grabbing the top with his other arm when he was halfway across the floor. Taking care to keep his body in the same position still, he let go and snatched up the rope. 

He got it!

Duke had to stop himself from celebrating too soon, twisting himself around, and-

He dropped, safely this time, landing himself into a roll. As he popped up into his feet, he knew that was right. There was nothing Damian could-

"Your turn was strange, but that was acceptable." Damian commented. "You still move your hips strangely, and that makes it look odd."

Duke sighed. Well, at least he had managed to do one 'acceptable' one. That was good enough for now, he guessed. 

"I'm gonna go hit the showers." He called over his shoulder. "If you were waiting for the mats, they're free."

Damian clicked his tongue. "Oh no, I was just enjoying watching you."

Duke sighed. That's kind of what he thought, but he would have liked it but to be true.

"Alright. You know, there are old training videos of Tim failing different things." Duke reminded. "You could always watch those instead."

"Oh, I know about those." Damian grinned. "I made a compilation of the best fails. I will show you later."

Shaking his head, Duke resumed his walk to the showers. He had gotten the maneuver, that was enough; and, weirdly enough, he almost felt closer to Damian for it.

Who knows; maybe it was the fact that he thought about making a compilation too.


	22. “I know how you love to play games.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Connor Comfort Tim after he wakes up from a nightmare.
> 
> (Past Rape, Trans Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Angst)

"Come out Ra's! There's no honor in hiding like that!" Tim yelled into the smoke, his voice raw from screaming. “I know how you love to play games, but you need to quit it now!"

He was pressed back into the corner, and he knew what Ra's wanted him to do. He was supposed to go forward into the smoke, and that was when he would attack. That's always how it played out when he ran through the situation in his head, there was no avoiding it. The smoke was rising. Soon, he'd be covered completely in the haze, unable to see of breathe or defend himself.

"You cannot defend yourself anyway." Ra's whispers, and it feels like it's directly in Tim's ear even though Ra's is nowhere to be seen. "You never can. Not against me."

"That's not true!" Tim screamed, and he could already feel himself growing dizzy from inhaling the fumes. "Not true!"

"Come now, don't fight it." Tim can feel hands on him now, pushing him up into the corner, hurting him. "Don't fight me."

He tries his best, but there's nothing he can do. It's like Ra's has too many hands, or maybe he's been held fast with a spell. He can't move. He can't run. His voice is so raw that when he screams he can taste blood, but he screams anyway. Maybe someone, anyone, will hear him. Someone who cares.

Somehow, he knows the truth.

"Oh, Timothy." He whispers, and Tim can feel his breath on his neck, his hands holding down his wrists. "No one is coming for you now, Timothy. Or should I even call you that? Perhaps I will call you your true name, my-"

"Tim!? Tim!"

Still caught half in a scream, Tim startled awake. His wrists, his arms- no one was holding them. He wasn't pressed into a corner, he was in bed. Ra's wasn't touching him, there was no smoke, and he felt like he could breath. Bart was sitting beside him on one side, leaning over him but not touching. Connor sat on the other, a concerned look pressed into his features.

His throat still tasted like blood.

"Are you okay? Oh my gosh, you were screaming and like, I was scared? Are you okay?" He rambled, gently snatching up Tim's hand and holding it in his own.

Tim took a deep breath, then let it out. Ra's wasn't here, it was just his boyfriends. He was okay. He was safe. 

"You're never safe." Ra's voice seemed to whisper still, making Tim shiver.

"Fine, fine, fine." His voice shook, throat completely raw. "I'm okay, okay. I'll- I'll be okay."

"Shh." Connor shushed him softly. "It's alright. You don't have to say anything."

Tim cleared his sore throat, then nodded. Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, he checked his watch. Just his luck: it was three thirty in the morning. Shit.  
Still, he pushed the blankets off of himself, and pointed to the bathroom when Bart looked confused. They both nodded, and he got up.

Flicking on the light switch, Tim stared at himself in the mirror. He hadn't told anyone what had happened, hell, he hadn't even tried to reason through what happened, really. 

There was no smoke, and he wasn't in the corner. He knew that. Those were just the kind of things dreams added to everything as they saw fit.  
He had gone to the league of shadows chasing a lead on a case that had turned out to have been set up by Ra's to get him to come to him. Tim had seen something like that coming, but he didn't know why Ra's wanted him. After he found out that he was trans he completely abandoned his idea to transfer his consciousness to him, so it couldn't be that. 

How was he supposed to know that he-

Tim choked, unable to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He had to go through the facts, but he couldn't look at himself while he did it. All he had to do was break it into the tiniest facts.

Ra's fought him.

They were in a closed room.

Neither of them had any weapons.

Tim lost.

Ra's held him down.

He stripped him of his clothes.

That was as far as Tim could get before curling up into himself, trying to push all of the memories out of his head. He slid down onto the floor. His boyfriends were right outside, wanting to distract him from whatever was distressing him. All he had to do was go back to them.

Ra's raped him.

That word hit Tim like ice in his veins, freezing him in place. He couldn't feel a thing other than the aching pound of his heart, the burn in his throat. He felt like he'd never be warm or clean again, not with what he had done to him.

A knock on the door. 

"Hey, Tim are you okay?" Connor asked in a gentle voice. 

Tim swallowed his tears. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He couldn't tell them. He couldn't say that word out loud.

"You don't sound fine, you sound like you're crying." Bart pointed out, and Tim sighed.

"Alright, I'll open the door, but I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep." Tim said, slowly pulling himself to the door.

"That's okay." Connor reassured as the door opened. "Do you just want to sit on the couch and watch numb, mind numbing TV?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

He'd tell them later, but for now? He just needed to forget. Eventually, they would have to know, but eventually wasn't right now. He'd be able to say that word one day.

He could still hear Ra's laugh over the noise of the television.


	23. "This is not new, it only feels like it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason helps out Alfred in the kitchen again, and they end up talking about family.
> 
> (Canon character death, implied/referenced child abuse, brief mention of Catholicism, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced underage smoking)

"It's still so weird, I guess." Jason shrugged, kicking his feet.

Alfred was convinced that he had dubbed that section of counter his seat. Anytime Jason joined him in the kitchen he was sitting there. As irritating as it was, to some degree, he had become quite fond of Jason's company. He had even stopped placing things on that spot of counter.

"What's so weird, Master Jason?" Alfred asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

Jason looked down at his feet. "Having a family again? It's not new, it only feels like it.”

Alfred turned his face away from him, smiling sadly down into his mixing bowl. He knew Jason's story, though it was only ever told in bits and pieces. A harsh father in prison, a well loved addict mother, and years spent on the streets with no one to look after him. It was amazing that he had survived at all, when you considered how much he had against him.

"I mean, it's a weird family." He clarified, hopping down off his spot. "But it's kinda nice. Did you need the vanilla?"

"Yes, I did need the vanilla."

Jason had to reach on his tiptoes to get it from the shelf, but he handed the bottle to Alfred. "There you go."

"Thank you, Master Jason." He nodded, then went back to his recipe.

"Like, there's Bruce, who's kinda like a da- an uncle." Jason decided with a firm nod. "'Cause he's all big and tough, but he also dresses up as a bat at night which is pretty weird when you think about it."

Alfred chuckled. "Right you are, Master Jason."

"And he teaches you how to do the kind of cool stuff your parents wouldn't let you know, which is totally also like an uncle." Jason added. "Then there's Dick. You need the brown sugar?"

Alfred double checked the recipe. "No, but I'll need the powdered sugar."

Jason nodded and handed him the bag. "And Dick's really just an older brother, but he's like... Do you know what an 'emo' is?"

Alfred tried desperately not to picture Bruce from ages fifteen to seventeen. "Yes, I am aware of that term."

"Great. He's like a weird cross between an emo older brother who hates his da- uncle, and the weird older brother who tells you not to do drugs and to stay in school. Like, protective, but also emo?" Jason scratched his head. "I guess?"

"Sounds like one strange older brother indeed, Master Jason." Alfred agreed, taking care to sift the powdered sugar carefully, so that they didn't make a huge mess like last time.

"Yeah, he's kind of a funky guy." Jason nodded. "But really cool. Like, sometimes I feel like he could do anything, from how Boss- Bruce, talks about him, anyway."

Alfred frowned, but said nothing. He knew how Bruce talked about Dick, especially in terms of Robin. He could see how, entering a position with such high expectations, Jason could become discouraged. And yet... He kept trying. It was quite heartening, really, to watch the enthusiasm he had for being Robin. While it did remind him of Dick, it was such a different kind of excitement. Dick was always easily excitable and could never sit still. Jason, for the most part, kept to himself. It was when he was talking about being Robin, when he was training, that his eyes got that bright sparkle. Alfred hoped that he never lost that joy.

"He is only human, like the rest of us." He reminded.

Jason scoffed. "Except his girlfriend. And like... Half the Justice League."

Alfred laughed. "Well, I suppose you are right."

"And arguably the Flash? What makes someone human, though?" He kicked his legs harder. "I think he's human though. But does it even matter? We all have souls, I think."

"I didn't take you to be one for philosophy, Master Jason." Stirring the batter, Alfred talked over his shoulder again.

Jason frowned, his shoulders dropping. Though he was nearly twelve now, he looked like a much younger child. The lack of food and cigarettes certainly hadn't helped his growth any, but Alfred had a feeling he was just a small child to begin with.

"My mom was Catholic." He murmured down into his lap. "She always wanted us to go to church, when she was well enough. Whenever she woke up, later on, she'd talk about getting ready for church. Didn't matter 'f it was three in the morning or on a Tuesday. She wanted to go."

Alfred set down his spatula, turning around to rest a hand on Jason's shoulder. Immediately he slid off his place on the counter, burying his face in Alfred's jacket as he latched onto him in a hug.

"I'm okay." Jason claimed, though his face was muffled by the fabric. "I'm doing alright."

"Alright, Master Jason." Alfred held him gently, rubbing circles in his back. "We will always be here for you."

"You can't promise always." Jason's voice broke.

Alfred shushed Jason gently as he cried, holding him as long as he would allow himself to be held. He was right, of course. No one could promise forever.  
Still, they were family. He had to be there for him as much as he could, as long as he could. That was all he could do.

"You're like my grandpa." Jason decided as he pulled away from the hug. "I've never had a grandpa before."

Tears threatened Alfred's eyes at that. The shine was in his eyes, the little gap-toothed grin on his face. 

"So, Mister Alfred," Jason hopped back up into his seat. "Need me to grab anything for you? We are gonna finish these cookies, ain't- aren't we?"

Alfred blinked, bringing himself back to the moment. "Yes, of course Master Jason. Could you fetch me the butter?"


	24. “You knows this, you know this to be true.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian has a panic attack, but thankfully he's not alone.
> 
> (Panic attacks, canon temporary character death, implied/referenced rape, canon typical violence)

Damian couldn't sleep.

That part, in itself, was not bad. Damian often found himself unable to sleep if he had forgotten some part of his routine, or hadn't done something he intended to do that day. If he couldn't sleep, it usually just meant he had to do something before his body would let him relax.

The problem was that Damian couldn't think of anything he might've missed. He had gone through his whole routine, and yes, he had completed it mentally four times.   
First he ate dinner, then finished any homework he might not have done or sketched for a bit. After that he went and trained for about an hour, some days a little longer. On nights when he had patrol he wouldn't train, but would go out into Gotham. Tonight, however, was quiet. Father had given him the night off, so he had simply spent some time with Duke in the Batcave. Directly after training and before showering, he went and fed all of his animals that needed a meal before bed. It was a quicker round than the morning one for certain, and was quickly finished. After that, and a fair deal of playing with Titus, he went and showered. After showering he meditated, calming himself down as much as possible. A cup of tea often aided that process, a good warm rooibos so that he didn't have to worry about caffeine. After he finished his tea he stretched, brushed his teeth, used the bathroom, and crawled under the covers.

So why couldn't he sleep?

There was no forgotten homework, no unfinished task for him to complete. He had done everything just right, so why didn't it feel correct? Something was bothering him, a slight pain maybe? He wasn't injured, so that shouldn't have been an issue.

Unless it was- 

A pain in his chest, right where the scar from Heretic was, shot outward into his body. It felt like failure as it stabbed into him, a reminder of all that he had done wrong.   
He had even been conceived wrong, the product of his mother taking advantage of Father being drugged to get what she wanted. He couldn't say that he was a product of assault out loud, but he knew it was true. How could Father care for something like that? He was a constant reminder of that night, and Damian knew for a fact that he remembered it. He was a mistake, a failure. He shouldn't exist.

"No, Father loves you." Damian said to himself in a short whisper. “You knows this, you know this to be true.”

No matter how much he said it, it never felt like it could be right. Something about the information just didn't click, leaving that ache in his heart.

"Father cares for me, he would not have brought me back from the dead if that was not true." He reminded himself, squeezing his eyes shut. "He would not have brought me back. He had the perfect- the perfect opportunity to leave me behind him, and he brought me back."

Trying fruitlessly to slow his breath, Damian clenched his hands into fists. He could hear how ragged he sounded, how close to hyperventilating. All he needed to do was calm down, he had no reason to be all worked up. It was only a thought, only a reminder of-

The pain struck his chest, that pain blossoming there in his heart. He could feel the blade tearing through him, the way it broke his bones and let the blood flow freely from him. There was no way to survive an injury like this, he knew that. Still, he struggled to breathe, blinking as his vision went blurry. He could taste and smell the acrid smoke, he could feel the arrows piercing his body. Heretic was standing over him, over his limp body. That twisted mirror image of his face, hairless and pale from not quite finishing his time in development, smiled.

Damian screamed.

Now he was alone and it was dark, dark and the only thing he could feel was the pain in his chest. It didn't pound anymore, it only burned and burst forward with more and more blood that he could feel but he couldn't see. It was too dark in this awful place to see, to do anything but just struggle to breathe. His fingers felt numb and cold, his head ached.  
He had never listened to Todd on his occasional religious conversations, but he was beginning to believe in some concept of hell.

"Damian, Damian you need to wake up." A voice above him, somewhere.

It sounded urgent, but he couldn't get his eyes open. He knew it wouldn't make any difference in this darkness.

"Shh, it's alright." The voice pulled him into its arms; it's hands were cold. "You're okay. You're safe, Dami."

It held him like that for a long time, until the pounding in his chest came back, replacing the wretched pain that felt as if it was going to rip him in two. Slowly, he was able to get a hold of his breathing. The voice was still shushing him gently, holding him in its arms.

Damian opened his eyes, and found himself looking up at Timothy Jackson Drake. The one person that he dreaded the voice being the most. 

"Release me, Drake, I am fine." Damian tried to shove him away with one hand, rubbing the tears from his eyes with the other.

"Okay, okay."

"I said release me!" Prying Tim's arm from around him, Damian pulled himself back into the bed and out of Tim's lap. "I am fine."

Tim sighed. "You know, it's okay to have panic attacks."

Damian tried to feel angry, to yell at him, but nothing came out. "I have nothing of the sort."

"You know, even Bruce gets them." He reminded.

"Yes, well I am supposed to be better than Father." Damian shot back, trying to sit up straight.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "People can't be better than other people, Damian. That's not how things work."

He frowned. "Whatever, Drake. Leave me be."

Sighing again in that same defeated tone, Tim turned and dangled his legs off the side of the bed. "Damian, no one's judging you for having panic attacks. I think all of us do, from time to time."

Damian scoffed. "Even you?"

"Especially me." Tim shrugged. "There have been points where I was having panic attacks daily, or even more often than that. It's nothing to be ashamed of, okay?"

Damian couldn't think of anything to say. His mouth was dry and his hands felt cold. Tired was the best word to describe him now, as his shoulders slumped.

"Alright." He managed, more to get Tim out of his room than anything.

"And hey, we're always here for you." Tim stood up and walked to the door, turning around just long enough to say; "Especially me."

Then he was gone, but Damian couldn't get his words out of his head.


	25. “Go forward, do not stray.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Damian compete against Tim and Connor in a little game.
> 
> (No warnings apply!)

"Go forward, do not stray from my directions you daft-" Damian shook his head. "You are such an idiot Jonathan Kent - turn left!" 

"What? I though you said go forward?" Jon called back, clearly confused.

"Connor and Drake are beating us, come on." Damian groaned. "Left. Go left now."

"Okay, okay!"

Damian shook his head. Of course being around Drake and Connor would result in them having to do such a stupid task as this. The old Titans HQ had a maze, set up for competition between two team members. There was a ceiling over it to prevent flying as a method of cheating, made of glass to allow for spectators. Naturally, Drake had the wonderful idea of blindfolding their 'super boyfriends' as he said, and making them go through the maze.  
Personally, he was insulted by the idea that he would be dating Jonathan. Sure he was adorable, and funny, and there were freckles all across his cheeks and nose, and his brown eyes glittered when he was happy, and- Damian scowled. He needed to stop thinking about his teammate like this, it was inconvenient. Besides, Wallace thought that he knew about Damian's 'little crush' as he said, and was now forever trying to figure out who it was.

Damn speedsters. Always so inquisitive.

"Uh, Damian?" Jon called from down below. "I hit a wall, do I go-"

He shook himself back to reality. "Right! Turn right!"

"Okay!" Jon yelled back, hurrying as fast as he could without being able to see. 

Truly, it wasn't fair. Connor had far more training when it came to functioning while blindfolded. But, of course, that was how the split had to be made. It would be just downright awkward to be talking to Connor for that long. He was a nice guy, but nice for Drake. Damian found him a little bizarre on a few counts, namely the appearance. Though, he wasn't mad at his hair... Then again, Jon had that same type of unruly curls, and that may very well be why he liked them on Connor.

Damian frowned. He really couldn't escape thinking about Jon like that, could he? It was embarrassing.

"Keep going forward, Jonathan." He corrected him before he could turn. "You're doing gre- tolerably. He's still beating you."

Jon rushed forward still, right along the way. 

"Left!" And he swung to the left, nearly hitting the next wall. "Another left, then two rights close after."

Damian watched as Jon followed his commands, swinging around the corners as fast as he dared. It was adorable to watch how awkwardly he moved, sticking out a hand once in a while to find the wall, or stumbling a bit over his own feet. He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling to himself.

"Keep going forward, you're almost there!" He yelled down at Jon.

Jon did a brief thumbs up. "How close is Connor to finishing?"

"Don't worry about your brother, just focus on moving." Damian frowned; they were much closer to finishing than he and Jon. "Take another left, then a right directly after."

"Got it!"

He scurried around the corners with an enthusiasm that could only have been fueled by the knowledge that his brother was about to beat him. Then again, other families were different. While there was certainly some tension between Connor and Jon, it was nothing like he and Drake.  
Still, it was adorable how hard he was trying.

"You made it!" Tim cheered, throwing a congratulatory fist in the air. "Team TK beats Team DJ zero to one!"

Damian scoffed. "Shut up, Drake. Take a left, Jon."

"Ok!" Jon yelled. "Did they really win?"

"Yes, but that doesn't matter. Turn right, now." He instructed. "And just continue forward. There we are, you've finished." 

"Yes!" Jon whipped off his blindfold. "Oh no, it's so bright out here! Now I know how you feel, Dami."

Damian blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's so bright! 'Cause it's like you leaving Gotham to go places with an actual sun." Jon grinned, flying up to where the others already were.

"Gotham has a sun, you idiot." He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Jon waggled his eyebrows. "Do I get a victory kiss?" 

Damian could feel himself blushing, hard. Jon's damned little smile with his adorably gapped teeth and his stupid little dimples - he had to look away for a moment.  
Looking away, however, only showed him Drake and Connor currently enjoying their victory kiss. Thoroughly. How revolting.

"No." Damian crossed his arms. "We didn't even win."

"Yeah we did, they aren't in our age bracket." Jon smirked. "But you don't have to kiss me though, that'd be-"

In one impulsive moment, Damian groaned the front of Jon's shirt, pulled him closer, and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're stupid, and there should be no age bracket for something like this, we would be competing only against ourselves." Damian said quickly, trying to cover his embarrassment.

Jon stood completely still. Star struck was the best word Damian could think of to describe it. His eyes sparkled.

"Okay, and I like you too." He gave Damian a dopey smile, grabbing his hand. "Let's go get victory ice cream." 

Damian couldn't help but smile a little bit, but he looked away to hide it, at least. "Alright, let's go."


	26. “But if you cannot see it, is it really there?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy, Garth, and Donna mess around with Wally a little bit.
> 
> (Teasing, no warnings apply)

"But if you can't see him, is he really there?" Wally tapped his foot on the floor. "Dude, you're making me feel like Batman's watching me all the time."

"Oh, not all the time." Garth corrected. "Don't worry."

"Phew. I was starting to think - wait." Wally frowned. "Why did you say 'not all the time' like that?"

Garth grinned. "He doesn't watch when you're in the shower. And only sometimes when you're changing."

"I knew you were gonna say something like that!" He cringed, tapping his foot even faster. "That's like, statistically impossible though. He can't watch all of us all the time. Even Batman can't be in two places at once!"

Roy laughed. "Security cameras?"

"No!" Wally thumped him on the head. "No way, besides, he can't bug our houses."

"Why not?" Garth raised his eyebrows.

"Well..." Wally frowned. "He definitely can't bug all of our schools."

"Why? Schools already have security cameras." Roy sat next to the two of them on the couch, crossing his legs at the ankle. "It'd be a piece of cake to hack into them."

Sighing in defeat, Wally's foot faltered, but only for a moment. "Wait! There are no security cameras in the locker rooms."

"That you know of, Walls." Donna walked into the room with a glass of water in her hand, taking a seat on the floor opposite the couch. "He could easily have installed some."

Immediately Wally's face scrunched up, and he curled into a ball. "That's so messed up."

Roy shrugged. "I mean, he's gotta keep an eye on us somehow. Gotta make sure none of us would, you know, have a crush on a certain someone?"

He groaned. "Stop bringing that up!"

"Not like he'd be mad at you, or anything. Having a crush on his only partner?" Roy elbowed him lightly.

"Shut up!"

"Just gotta make sure you don't have, you know, all of the photos we've taken as a team as a folder on your phone, and then an album with all of the photos with Robin in them." Garth elbowed him frown the other side.

Wally squeaked at shot straight up. "How did you know about that?"

Garth looked completely stunned, a slow smile creeping into his face. "Lucky guess."

"Ugh!" Wally curled up again, hugging his knees to his chest. "I'm so hopeless."

"Yep. Especially once Batman gets to you." Roy grinned.

"Wait. If he's watching me all the time, why hasn't he gotten me yet?" Wally smiled. "I've had a crush on him since I was twelve! He definitely would have-"

"He's waiting for the right moment." Donna interrupted, then took a sip of her water. "Biding his time."

"It could be a matter of days." Garth agreed, nodding. "Or weeks. Or months. Who knows?"

Wally squirmed. "But not really, right? You guys are just joking?"

"Joking about what?" Robin walked in, taking a moment to yawn and stretch. "Sorry I'm late; last night was rough in Gotham."

"Nothing." Roy said quickly.

Garth nodded. "Nothing at all."

"Nothing but Wally's paranoia." Donna grinned.

"Yeah." Garth chuckled. "He thinks Batman's watching him all the time."

"Do not!" Wally squeaked, but was largely ignored.

"Even like, at home and at school and stuff." Roy shook his head. "It's just sad."

Wally seethed. "Roy Harper I swear-"

Robin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Wally, what made you feel like that?"

"I don't! They were saying that!" He told, resuming his foot tapping.

"And he believed us." Garth sighed.

"Without question." Donna added.

Roy continued shaking his head. "Wholeheartedly." 

"Sad." Garth barely contained his laughter.

"You guys are so mean." Wally shook his head, elbowing Garth and Roy.

Robin shook his head. "Alright, we've got work to do. It's Friday, so who's turn is it to write the weekly report?"

No one raised their hand.

"I'll pick someone at random if no one admits." He threatened.

Roy raised a very guilty hand. "Got it. Do I have to leave in the-"

"Embarrassing parts?" Robin sighed. "Yes. I tell you that every time it's your turn."

"Just to annoy you, babe." Roy winked at Wally.

Wally fumed, crossing his arms and turning bright red.

Robin raised a confused eyebrow. "Alright. Wally, customary perimeter check? Donna, I want you to come with me, there's a warehouse I want to check out. Garth..."

"What? Sorry, lost it for a moment." Garth snapped back to attention. "What am I doing?"

"Get some water, then see how things are doing near the pier. It seems like something hits there every other weekend, and it's been two weeks now." Robin instructed. "Alright. Everyone know what they're doing?"

Everyone nodded, getting up from their placed on the couch or, in Donna's case, the floor.

"Wait, Wally!" Roy called after him.

Wally skidded to a halt, taking off his goggles. "What?"

He grinned. "Gullible is written on the ceiling."

"Whatever, jerk."

"Idiot."

"Less-Speedy."

"Dude, you're a ginger wearing yellow." Roy pointed out.

Wally opened his mouth, then sighed in defeat. "True. Bet I'll be back before you finish your report?"

"Hell yeah." He nodded. "Bet, loser cleans the bathrooms."

"Language! Ready, go!"

Roy regretted it the moment Wally dashed away.

"Guess I'm gonna be pretty familiar with the bathrooms." Roy groaned. "Report. Got it."


	27. “Remember, you have to remember.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally, after recently coming back from the dead, tries to make sense of the reality he's in currently vs the one he remembers.
> 
> (Angst, rape, child abuse, homophobia, homophobic slurs, transphobia, trans Wally West)

Wally squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think it all through and process the shitshow that was his reality these days. Ever since dying, no, being lost to the speed force, things were... Wrong.

Dick Grayson. 

The way Wally remembered it, Robin had whispered that name to him one night after the other Titans went to bed, sitting on the couch together, watching High School Musical for the seventeenth time. Wally was fifteen, Robin had only said he was younger than him in the past. He would realize later than he was fourteen.  
On the couch, alone together, Dick had shared his secret identity. He wasn't just some nobody like Wally was, he was a minor celebrity from Gotham city, plaything of the rich elite. Wally thought he would go through the roof, but then Dick pressed a cold finger to his lips and told him not to tell. So he didn't. He was good at keeping secrets, even though Dick laughed when he told him that.

But Dick was surprised to hear Wally say his name here, as if he shouldn't know it.

“Remember, you have to remember.” Wally ground his teeth together, clenching his hands into fists. 

He had always told everything to Aunt Iris... Well, almost everything. Wally let her know his greatest hopes and fears, everything that kept him ticking. She was the one to hear about his life at school, how the kids there bullied him saying that going by a shitty name didn't make him a boy. He told her about who he had a crush on, even when it was Robin.

But he didn't tell her about his parents. 

He didn't know why. She would call Rudolph an asshole to Wally's face, citing her hatred for her older brother. Still, he didn't think that she would take kindly to hearing how he hit Wally, calling him all sorts of slurs and insults. His mother knew about it and did nothing. Rudolph never laid a finger on her, and everything he was saying was right, so why would it be her problem?  
It all came out the night Rudolph raped him. Wally was still haunted by the words he said, that it would either convince him he was a girl again, or stop him from being a fucking faggot. Wally couldn't move, too paralyzed by fear the way he always was when his dad hurt him. That was when all of his speed abandoned him, and he didn't think he could have gotten away if he had tried.

So he told her. He ran to Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris's house in the middle of the night, sobbing. They both woke up when he shook Aunt Iris's arm, unable to say a word through his tears. She held him and he told her everything. All of the years of abuse, everything he had done.   
Wally would never forget the way Uncle Barry took him to the ER to make sure he was okay, and to make sure the correct evidence was corrected so Rudolph West wouldn't get away with this.

In the end, after so many months of proceedings, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris were his legal guardians, and his name was legally changed: Wallace Bartholomew West. He kept the last name because he liked it, not for his shitty family.

But here, it was different. He was legally emancipated at seventeen when he went away to college, moving out of his parents home. Wally woke up screaming with nightmares, no, memories coming back to him of this reality. He knew that was what they were from the journal he kept religiously as a kid. He had found it, read through and found all the ways his childhood was different from the Wally of this worlds.  
He never told Barry and Iris, but that didn't mean nothing had happened. No, his father didn't stop after the first time, either. And yet, Wally still felt the need, when changing his name, to stick with the old family tradition: the sons middle name was always his father's first name, no matter how bad he was. 

"No, no!"

Because here those nights never happened, when he and Dick would sleep together and share whatever was bothering them. Dick told him about his parents, and about Gotham's villains, and how he was scared that one of these days he would fail as the team leader. Wally told him everything: the situation at school, how he was trans and bi, what his dad had done to him. Everything. They would comfort each other and just cry. Dick was the first person to tell Wally that it was alright to cry, that it didn't make him any less of a boy. Those words shaped Wally, in a way.

It was on one of those nights that they first kissed, soft and gentle, both scared out of their minds. They both confessed to their feelings, then kissed more. They were officially dating within the week.

But here, things were different. Dick had been dating Kori while they were still the Titans. Hell, they had even been close to getting married. That didn't turn out, but Dick didn't turn to Wally; he ended up with Barbara after that. That, obviously, didn't happen either.  
Wally had nothing against either of them, but it was so painful to him hearing that he nearly bit through his lip. He and Dick had been dating for years... In his world.

And the differences didn't stop there, but Wally was too frustrated to think through them all. It was worse because his memories were becoming fused with this other, angrier Wally the longer he was here. He snapped at Bart more, his nightmares ran rampant, and there was nothing he could do about any of it but try his best.  
But there Dick was, chatting with Roy in his civvies. His black tee shirt clung to every curve of the body he knew so well. Yet there were different scars that littered his form. A cut across his bicep Wally didn't remember; a bite mark from killer croc on his forearm, and he was missing others. There used to be a burn scar on his elbow from one time they fought Parasite, a slash across the back of his hand from a tangle with a sea serpent. He was familiar, yet eerily not the same.  
Still, everything in Wally's body wanted to run up and kiss him on the cheek, to hug his boyfriend gently. The memory, though, of the way Dick looked at him when he first kissed him. He had come back to life, he saw his boyfriend, what was to be expected? Yet Dick had laughed it off with an uncomfortable smile, saying only six words.

"It's good to have you back."

Or was that seven? Damn contractions, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that his boyfriend of ten years, the man he planned on marrying one day, barely thought of him beyond a work context. They were friends, sure, but nothing more.

Wally could cry just thinking about it, but held it together. Even as he thought about it, the memory of those late nights spent together was fading.


	28. “I felt it. You know what I mean.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dinner at Wayne Manor, and everyone is invited!
> 
> (Reference to drug abuse, but that's it)

Bruce sighed, maintaining his posture and trying to keep a straight face. Alfred had worked very hard to get the whole family together for Thanksgiving, and damn him if he ruined it. 

When he said whole family, he meant the whole family. And friends, and boyfriends. They had to use the large, formal dinner table to seat everyone, with Bruce at one end and Kate at the other. He found it a little bit humorous she had attended, considering that she was Jewish. Then again, Connor and Jon were also here, and Jason was the only one religious besides them, so perhaps it was more of a family dinner than a true thanksgiving.  
Next to her on either side sat Cass and Stephanie, holding hands across the table. They really were quite happy with each other, and Bruce smiled any time he saw them together. He was worried at first with how... Volatile they can each be, but they worked surprisingly well. Their energies complemented each other.   
In the most odd duo set up after them, Duke and Connor sat across from each other. They seemed to be getting along just fine, actually. Bruce was happy about that. Duke was anxious meeting other heroes from Gotham, let alone outside. He had confidence that he would be fine, but seeing them getting along was still reassuring.

"Drake, stop kicking me."

Tim and Damian sat across from each other after them, Tim on Connor's side and Damian on Duke's. 

"I didn't kick you." Tim claimed.

Bruce didn't believe that for a second.

“I felt it. You know what I mean.” Damian crossed his arms and glared.

Tim rolled his eyes, and thankfully they kept from further argument.   
Jon sat next to Damian and Bart on the other side of Tim, so there were no problems there. They appeared to be geeking out over a video game, but Bruce wasn't sure.

Video game things these days made him feel old. 

Roy sat next to Jon, with Lian in his lap rather than in her seat next to him. Jon was enamored with her, and she appeared to be telling him all about her day. Jason, seated across from Roy, was smiling at the group of them with a softness that Bruce didn't know he had anymore. It made his heart ache for him; but he was happy knowing that Jason had found happiness, even if he took the long route. Kori sat next to him, giggling at Jason's starstruck expression.  
Finally, on either side of Bruce, sat Barbara and Dick. Thankfully, Barbara was seated on the same side as Kori. Things were still a little bit awkward between Kori and Dick, even though they were getting better. Coexisting peacefully was a good sign, anyway. Dick and Barbara were bickering about a case they had worked together recently, the Morovi case if he wasn't mistaken. Bruce wasn't paying very close attention.

Alfred had refused to set himself a seat, of course. He was too humble to set himself a chair to join them, and Bruce knew in part that he'd rather just observe. He understood the feeling, these days. There were times he himself wanted to slip away from a conversation and just watch his kids, smiling when he realized how much they'd grown up. 

Hell, he'd known almost everyone here when they were children. He and Kate played together, as cousins, when they were little.   
Cass and Steph he'd known since both were young teenagers.   
Duke he'd met more recently, and Connor was fully grown in the cloning process, but he felt that he had seen both of them mature immensely.   
Tim he'd met when he was still a bright eyed eleven year old, Damian when he was a violent thirteen. It hurt a little bit to know what they'd been through growing up, but he could see the parts of them that had changed for the better. He took no credit for that, he knew it was their own choices, their own growth.   
Jon he'd known since he was born, and Bart since he came back from the future as an impulsive kid. Both of them still had a whole lot of growing to do, sure, but they had come a long way.   
Roy was painful to see at times, with his lost arm and the obvious effect of heroin on his face. Bruce had known him since not long after Olly took him in as an enthusiastic kid, always aiming to please. He'd come a long way, but seeing him with him little daughter, Lian, just felt right. Jason, smiling at him with his head in his hands, hurt his heart to see. Still, he had agreed to come, which was something. They were far from being close, hell, he probably only came for Alfred, but it was progress.  
Kori he'd known since she crashed to earth, and if Bruce had to say anything he'd say she had barely changed a bit. Sure, she had grown physically, but she still retained that brightness, that joy. The only thing he could notice is that she was more secure, more confidant.  
Dick and Barbara... That's where this all started, isn't it? Other than Kate, who'd been doing her own thing separately, they were the first to really join him. Dick as an eight year old trying his best to be cheery, and Barbara as the Commissioner's snarky twelve year old daughter, insisting she be able to help. Those two had come a long way, and after all they'd been through, Bruce was glad they could still be friends. 

"Dinner is served." Alfred announced, and Bruce put those thoughts aside to dwell on another time.


	29. “At least it can’t get any worse.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Dick tried to make Alfred breakfast. It's impressive, but maybe not in a favorable way...
> 
> (No warnings apply!)

"Master Bruce, how in God's name did you-" Alfred sputtered in disbelief, pressing his fingers to his temples. "And you, Master Dick, were you involved as well?"

Dick grinned from his, very sticky, spot on the floor. "Well... It was my idea."

Alfred sighed, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Quickly scanning his eyes over the kitchen, he assessed the damage. The microwave appeared to have blown up, for one. The scorch marks on the cabinets were a clear indicator of that, along with the abundance of fire extinguisher foam. A heavy coating of some white powder, most likely pancake mix from the texture, coated every counter. A cracked egg was on the floor, the shell halfway across the room. The crowning glory, however, was the syrup.  
That much maple syrup had to have come from more than one bottle, for certain. It seemed to cover the entire floor, running further out of the kitchen even as they stood, or sat, there. It truly was everywhere: flung up cabinets, stuck on the countertops, and flung all over Dick and Bruce both.

Dick was sitting down, holding the plastic remains of at least two jars of maple syrup in his limp hands, syrup sticking in his hair and making his curls hang at odd angles. Bruce looked completely flabbergasted, an oven mitt on one hand, a floral apron on over his undershirt and boxers, and the same ridiculous coating of maple syrup.

“Well, at least it can’t get any worse.” He said with a sigh of resignation, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The fire alarm went off, blaring in all of their ears. "I spoke too soon."

Dick plugged his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. "But nothing's smoky anymore! We put the fire out!"

Alfred almost stepped closer, then decided against it. "And how did you get a fire going to begin with, Master Dick?"

Dick giggled. "That was Bruce! He microwaved the butter with a metal spoon in the bowl!"

Bruce turned bright red, hiding his face in the oven mitt hand. "I just woke up; I forgot."

Alfred shook his head. "You forgot, Master Bruce, that you were disallowed from stepping one foot in this kitchen close to three years ago now."

Bruce cringed. "You keep track?"

"I have the anniversary written on my calendar." Alfred bluffed, smiling ever so slightly. "How many days since a Bruce-related kitchen incident? It appears I am back down to zero."

Dick's shoulders slumped. "To be fair... It was my idea. And the fire alarm stopped!"

"Master Dick, you are eight years old." He pointed out. "However much mess you create, it will not match how much of a mess Master Bruce created at that age. Come now, stand up. I shall go collect a few towels to make a path to the bathroom."

"Thanks, Alfred." Dick bowed his head, setting down the broken jugs as he pulled himself up out of the syrup.

Alfred had to turn his head away as the syrup stuck in messy strands all up and down Dick as he stood up. It was, quite frankly, a disgusting mess, and one Alfred was not relishing cleaning up. As quickly as he could manage, he stepped to the nearest linen closet, producing what he seemed to be the proper amount of towels. He began laying them down, leading from the bathroom on to the kitchen.

"There you are, Master Dick. Get yourself cleaned up for school." Alfred laid down the lay towel, completing the path.

Dick nodded. "Thanks, Alfie."

Smiling as the nickname, Alfred waved him to go along the way. Silently, he prayed that no drop of syrup would fall into the carpet. Cleaning it was far more a hassle than washing a dozen or so towels. Dick bounced on as he always did, hopping from towel to towel until he made it to the bathroom.

He would have to remember to get a spare change of clothes ready for him, once he had talked to Bruce.

"Alright, Master Bruce. Would you care to explain what happened?"

Bruce stared at his, very syrupy, feet. "Dick wanted to make you breakfast."

"What?"

"He said that, back in the circus, everyone took turns making meals... so we should make you breakfast, since it always seems to be your turn." He explained, eyes still on the floor.

Alfred smiled. "Well, you had good intentions."

"I didn't think I could mess up pancakes." Bruce added quickly. "I was following the directions, then I realized that our butter wasn't melted, so I went to heat it in the microwave."

"With a metal spoon in the bowl."

Bruce cringed. "Yes. I forgot about the metal spoon, so the microwave blew up. That's when Dick dropped the maple syrup, too. He grabbed the fire extinguisher and I put the fire out."

"And the pancake mix?" Alfred asked.

"I knocked the bag over, when I was putting out the fire." Bruce lifted one foot then, disgusted by the syrup, put it back down. "And the egg was already cracked into a little bowl, which also got tipped over."

"Alright, Master Bruce." Alfred sighed. "That's quite enough explanation, I believe I understand thoroughly. Once Master Dick is finished in the shower you may leave the kitchen, but you are not dripping syrup on my carpet. Understood?"

Bruce nodded. "Understood."

"It's quite alright, though I must say I'm not sure you shall ever be allowed in the kitchen at this rate." He shook his head. "But... I must say, I take back what I said earlier."

"What?"

"It could be worse." Alfred decided. "It certainly was last time."

Bruce winced. "I thought we agreed not to talk about last time-"

"Tomato sauce. All over my carpet." 

He turned his face away.

"Half cooked spaghetti, all over the floor."

"Yes, Alfred." Bruce groaned through clenched teeth.

"Three dozen, a ridiculous amount, meatballs, all burnt to the bottom of the oven." Alfred shook his head in disbelief.

"I remember." Bruce insisted. "You can stop now."

"Then the oven exploded! I am quite glad you are alright, though I'm not sure how you managed that one." 

"Okay, Alfred." He sighed in resignation. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, Master Bruce." Alfred removed his jacket and bow tie. "Come now, we can start cleaning while you wait for the shower."

"We?"

"Yes 'we', Master Bruce." Alfred smirked. "You are twenty years old and still opposed to housework? I must have failed quite spectacularly."

Bruce shook his head, then let out a great sigh. "Alright, what can I help you with?"


	30. “Do we really have to do this again?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason needs Bruce's help on a case, and neither of them are very happy about it.
> 
> (Mentioned temporary canon character death, canon typical violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, anxiety)

Jason sighed, frowning at himself in the mirror. He knew he would have to do this, he couldn't handle this whole case by himself. Roy was out spending time in Arizona with Lian and the rest of his family, and Kori was... Who the fuck ever knew where Kori was?  
Dick was in Blüdhaven working on trying to not get killed for being a clean cop, and they both knew he didn't have time for anyone else right now. Tim was in the middle of law school midterms right now, and there was no way in hell he would be able to come help out with what had the potential to become a shootout. Damian was off in Bealia with Jon, offering what aid and help they could to the victims of the civil war there.  
Of course, they had to all have such good excuses to not be in Gotham. Jason wondered if they had a reason to be avoiding the Bat these days, if he had done anything especially heinous recently.

But, who knows? Stephanie had gone with Cass to Hong Kong, aka not coming home any time soon. Duke was busy with other things, he had been the first person Jason called.  
So he had no other choice. He scoffed. It had been a long time since he went running to Bats for help, and now...

Jason stared himself down in the mirror. It really had been a long time, hadn't it? He didn't remember a lot of those years, courtesy of the pit scrambling him up for those first few. Talia, he remembered Talia. He remembered bring in Russia, spending a lot of time there. Gunshots and explosives, his fingers shaking as he fired gun after gun, learning not to care about the people it left behind.

He shook his head. That didn't matter, what mattered was where he was now. The past was just the past. Sure, it shaped you into being who you are, but-

His eyes were green now, not blue.

Jason choked. Not this again, he didn't want to do this again but it always seemed to come up, again and again. Growing up, people always pointed out how much he looked like his dad. Later he learned that was because Catherine wasn't his birth mother, but that was another deal. Black hair, tan skin with freckles and moles scattered like paint splotches, and crooked teeth. His blue eyes were the thing people wondered about, the only striking difference.

"Where did you get your eyes?" 

"He has such beautiful eyes."

"Does his mother have blue eyes?"

His dad always growled at that last one, even though Jason didn't understand it. He didn't mind, as long as it wasn't him his dad was mad at everything was peachy. More often than not though, it was him.

Jason scowled. He didn't want to think about this, about the little scar on his cheekbone where his father punching him had actually broken skin. It hadn't been too bad then, it was pretty normal, but Jason always dreaded the moment when someone stared, evaluating whether or not it would be okay to ask.

Of course, these days he had more obvious facial scars. The slice through his eyebrow and down onto his cheekbone was the clearest, still very visible even after all of these years. A crowbar had done that one, a swing that just missed his eye, thankfully. His eyebrow still didn't grow through there, which he had to admit he liked.  
It made him look tough. He could respect that. 

Bruce hadn't liked the things that made him look tough, or maybe Jason just felt out of place. Either way, not long after joining the Wayne house he had changed himself quite a bit. His hair was cut short, and he styled it like his father did 'cause he didn't know how to do it any other way. He tried to hide his Crime Alley accent, saying full words and trying to curse less. Bruce hadn't made him do any of that, he had done it on his own.

He wanted Bruce to be his dad.

No he didn't, Jason turned away from the mirror, flicking off the bathroom light. Electing to leave his guns behind for this one, he geared up. With one final sigh and something still nagging at the back of his brain, Jason put on the helmet.

***

"Why are you here, Jason?"

Jason always marveled at the way Bruce did that when he was a kid, always knowing it was him and not anyone else. Now he knew it was the smell of cigarette smoke, always had been. But that didn't matter.

"Leonovich case, family's involved with a shipment to the docks tonight. I need an extra body." Jason explained, trying to sound unconcerned.

In truth, Bruce terrified him. It had taken a long time to separate him and his birth father, the way the pit had combined them, but Jason could still see Bruce hitting him. It didn't matter that it wasn't real, it still made his hands shake.

"An extra body." Bruce grumbled. "Unfortunate wording. Was that intentional?"

“Do we really have to do this again?I'm not lookin' to kill you tonight, 'kay? I'm not looking to kill you at all." Jason rolled his eyes.

Bruce still didn't turn around, still facing the Bat Computer. He had laughed at the way he named everything, at first. It was so stupid for someone as epic at Batman to name everything so stupidly.  
He really idolized him back then, didn't he?

"How did you get in here?"

Jason blinked. "What?"

"How did you get in here?" Bruce repeated, that little bit of a growl still underlying his voice.

Jason's hands clenched into fists; he didn't like that one bit. "Alfred let me in, I walked straight through the front door."

He hummed. "And the cave?"

"What 'bout it?"

Bruce rubbed his temples, but still didn't turn around. "How did you get into the cave?"

"Hacked it. Your security is easy pickings, old man." Jason smirked. "You shoulda let Timmy work on it when he offered." 

"Should I have?" Bruce sighed heavily. "I agree with you, we'll need to work together if it comes down to taking out the Leonovich family. Rumor on the streets is that they've gotten ahold of some meta-human drugs."

Scoffing, Jason came forward to lean on the desk. "More 'n rumor. He's a nasty one."

"Which one?" 

"Alex." He clarified. "The guy's got super-strength. That's it, thankfully. Anythin' more 'n that an he'd be real bad to deal with."

Bruce nodded. Now that Jason was closer, he could see his brows pulled tight into concentration. Seeing his face was reassuring for Jason, though. It reminded him that time really had passed, and it wasn't just him. More lines crinkled his forehead, the corners of his mouth. The hair above his ears was more grey than black these days, his stubble a solid salt and pepper.

"So, we gonna do this?" Jason asked, finding a frown settling on his own face, too.

Bruce nodded again. "I'll get suited up. No lethal force, we need them all to talk."

"Already knew that, genius." He rolled his eyes again. "And I don't take orders from you. We're equals, 'kay?"

"Got it."

***

Not everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, but not everything went right, either. In the end all of the Leonovich family was tied up, the drugs were confiscated, and no one died, but...

"Bats! I'm trapped under 'ere!" Jason pulled at his leg, trying to get it out from under the crate. "Bats?"

The force was starting to get him to panic, the feeling of not being able to move, the pressure on him there, the smell of smoke-

No, there's no smoke. 

But Jason could smell that scent like a storm rolling in, the ozone crackling in the air. It made his nose burn, his muscles twitch. That was the smell of the pit, unmistakable. He could smell the pit and now he was trapped, like the rubble crashing down on top of him. Then it had been his chest, legs, and one arm; now it was just his left leg trapped underneath the crate.

He was fine. He was going to be okay.

He was going to die.

Jason pulled and pulled, pushing at the box, trying his best to lift it, but his angle was impossible. He would be trapped here forever and he would die, but not by asphyxiation his time, more slowly. He would die of thirst in three days, hearing the water in the docks only yards away, smelling the wretched smell of the pit.

Jason felt as if he could vomit.

Everything was-

Bruce grunted, pulling the crate upwards with all his strength. Jason snapped to the sound, yanking his leg back the moment he realized what was going on.   
It felt a little stupid, he had to say, to be rescued that easily. Though, he guessed it would always feel stupid afterwards when it was the Pit messing with him.

"Is your leg okay?" Bruce strained as he lowered the crate back down, his mouth drawn into a tight line. 

Jason tested it, pulling himself to his feet. "Holds weight okay, I'll be fine. We should split, cops are comin'."

Jason had just begun to hear the sirens, coming closer every second.

"Come back to the cave." He grunted.

"What?"

"Come home. Alfred will want to know you're safe." Bruce repeated.

Of course, his excuse was Alfred. Jason saw right through it, but was offended all the same.

"Tell 'im yourself then." Jason spat.

"Please."

Everything went dead silent. Jason's fists went limp, his shoulders dropping. For a moment he felt like a fifteen year old kid again, listening to Bruce telling him to be safe.

"Fine." He choked, pulling himself together. "Either way, let's get outta here."

And sure, Bruce will probably never call him son just like he'll never call Bruce dad, but the feeling is there. Suddenly, even after so long, Jason thought that things might not be so different after all.


	31. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the Titans have a scheme to let Robin know Wally likes him.   
> The real question is, does Robin like him back?
> 
> (No warnings apply?)

Wally hated the lasso of truth. Lassos of truth? There were more than one, Donna had one, so- you know what, that didn't matter. What mattered was that his team was full of jerks.

Not really, he corrected himself. That wasn't fair to them. They were just trying to help him, after all...

Their way of helping just wasn't that great.

The first thing that went wrong was the fact that he didn't even notice that Donna had the lasso of truth on her belt. She usually didn't wear it so that, you know, incidents like this didn't happen. She had been carrying out business like usual, but had the lasso.

That's how Wally knew the whole thing was intentional, not just their normal level of teasing. The teasing itself was normal, and he knew he could tell them to knock it off and they would. Being the youngest, the baby, on the team just had that effect, really. They were like a family, despite his dislike for that word.

Second was the teasing itself. Sure, they always teased him about who he liked, but never blatantly in front of Robin. That was just a little bit too obvious. Regardless, that was what they were doing, lightly pushing him back and forth between themselves, asking who it was.

Third was the tuna salad sandwich he ate for lunch. He felt like he was about to throw up.

"Come on, you're shit about keeping secrets." Roy taunted, shoving him over to Donna. 

"Language." Donna covered Wally's ears. "Small ears present?"

"Ha ha, guys, so funny." 

Wally brushed off Donna's hands, only to be passed over to Garth.

"Seriously dude, we might be able to give you advice." He shrugged, then passed him back to Donna.

"I don't want your advice!" Wally insisted. 

"Mm, but do you? We're like the weirdest older siblings ever, that's gotta count for something." Donna passed him to Roy.

Roy grinned. "Yeah, we could help you if you told us."

"Hey, Rob! Come join us!" Garth waved him over.

That was easily number four. Getting Robin himself involved? Wally was still embarrassed just thinking about it.

Roy shoved Wally over to Robin, who caught him easily. "What are we talking about?"

Wally blushed at the prolonged contact with him, his face turning bright red.

"Ooh, getting embarrassed?" Roy smirked.

Robin thrust him over to Garth. "Yeah, come on Walls. Who is it?"

Garth passed him to Roy. "Who is it?"

Roy to Robin. "Yeah Wally, who is it?"

And Robin over to Donna. Donna who had the lasso of truth on her damn belt. The lasso of truth that Wally now hated with a burning passion.

"Who is it?" She asked innocently.

"Robin." He blurted out, then realized what had happened.

In an instant he was out of the room, rushing over to the closet he was hiding in now. His room would be the first place they checked, after all, then all of the places he usually liked to hide. He did not, in fact, like to hide in this closet, which meant it was safe.  
Wally was good at hiding. He prides himself on that. For not being Robin, he was surprisingly flexible and could fit into some weird spots. He was also small enough that he still fit in the awful little lockers at his school.

There was a small knock on the closet door. Had he imagined it? Was someone just knocking to see if he'd answer? He hadn't locked the door though, it didn't lock from the inside, so they could have just opened it if they were looking. Wally was beginning to panic, his breath coming quick.   
Or, worse, what if they just locked him in here?

"Wally, I know you're in there."

That was Robin's voice, and Wally was officially about to lose his shit. What was he going to do? Staying silent sounded like the best idea, so he want with that. If only he could vibrate his molecules, he'd go right through the floor and be free of all of them for now. Instead, he was stuck.

"I'm serious Wally, I can hear your breathing." He added with a sigh.

Wally still didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. There was no way he could. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, making him want to scream.

"If I open the door, do you promise not to run away?"

Trying to steady his breath, Wally nodded. It didn't quite register that he couldn't see him nodding, since the door was still shut, but that didn't matter.

"Oh, and it's just me. Don't worry about anyone else."

That, actually... Was a relief. Wally took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

"I'm opening the door."

Sure enough, there was Robin, standing above him. Wally glanced down the hallway either direction, but there was no one else around. He sighed in relief, then turned his attention back to Robin.

"I talked to the others about that, I think they know it was a breach of trust." Robin started, sitting himself down on the floor in front of him.

Wally shrugged. "I mean, the only one who didn't know was, well... You."

"That's understandable." Robin blurted. "I'm sorry, this is awkward, I just..."

Wally squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I know this is really inconvenient and makes everything on the team kinda awkward especially since you're team leader and it's like, kinda your job to remain impartial and all... Would Batman even let you date? Probably not on the team, huh? I mean, that would be really bad if it was a bad breakup or-"

Robin laughed. "Wally, you're going too fast; I can't understand you."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Robin reached forward and ruffled his hair. "Now, what were you saying?"

"No, I was..." Wally trailed off. "I was apologizing for making things awkward."

Robin, for the third time Wally had ever seen, looked confused. The first being the time they all wore pants-less versions of their costumes in solidarity with him, the second when he saw Garth eat fish for the first time. So, this must have been some serious level confusion.

"Sorry?"

Robin burst out laughing. "No, no! Don't be sorry. Wally, Wally, I- can I kiss you?"

"What?!" Wally nearly leapt off the floor. "Why would you-"

"I like you too, idiot."

He blinked, trying to make sense of that.

Robin smirked. "So can I kiss you, or what?"

"Yes, yes oh my gosh. I've waited so long for this, you have no idea."

He laughed again. "You think I have no idea?"

And as they kissed, Robin closed the closet doors behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment please I'm begging you I'd sell you my firstborn for a comment
> 
> (Also check out my Tumblr, Supertinywords or Supertinybats <3


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